Now it happened on a certain time that a traveller from
far countries, a man of great curiosity, was by desire of
strange lands and the ways and dwellings of unaccustomed
folk brought in a ship as far west even as the Lonely Island,
Tol Eressëa in the fairy speech, but which the
Gnomes call Dor Faidwen, the Land of Release, and a
great tale hangs thereto.
Now
one day after much journeying he came as the lights of evening were
being kindled in many a window to the feet of a hill in a broad and
woody plain. He was now near the centre of this great island and for
many days had wandered its roads, stopping each night at what dwelling
of folk he might chance upon, were it hamlet or good town, about the
hour of eve at the kindling of candles. Now at that time the desire of
new sights is least, even in one whose heart is that of an explorer; and
then even such a son of Eärendel as was this wayfarer turns his
thoughts rather to supper and to rest and the telling of tales before
the time of bed and sleep is come.
Now
as he stood at the foot of the little hill there came a faint breeze and
then a flight of rooks above his head in the clear even light. The sun
had some time sunk beyond the boughs of the elms that stood as far as
eye could look about the plain, and some time had its last gold faded
through the leaves and slipped across the glades to sleep beneath the
roots and dream till dawn.
Now these rooks gave voice of
home-coming above him, and with a swift turn came to their dwelling in
the tops of some high elms at the summit of this hill. Then thought
Eriol (for thus did the people of the island after call him, and its
purport is 'One who dreams alone', but of his former names the story
nowhere tells): 'The hour of rest is at hand, and though I know not even
the name of this fair-seeming town upon a little hill here I will seek
rest and lodging and go no further till the morrow, nor go even then
perchance, for the place seems fair and its breezes of a good savour. To
me it has the air of holding many secrets of old and wonderful and
beautiful things in its treasuries and noble places and in the hearts of
those that dwell within its walls.'
Now Eriol was coming from
the south and a straight road ran before him bordered at one side with a
great wall of grey stone topped with many flowers, or in places
overhung with great dark yews. Through them as he climbed the road he
could see the first stars shine forth, even as he afterwards sang in the
song which he made to that fair city.
Now was he at the summit
of the hill amidst its houses, and stepping as if by chance he turned
aside down a winding lane, till, a little down the western slope of the
hill, his eye was arrested by a tiny dwelling whose many small windows
were curtained snugly, yet only so that a most warm and delicious light,
as of hearts content within, looked forth. Then his heart yearned for
kind company, and the desire for wayfaring died in him — and impelled by
a great longing he turned aside at this cottage door, and knocking
asked one who came and opened what might be the name of this house and
who dwelt therein. And it was said to him that this was Mar Vanwa
Tyalieva, or the Cottage of Lost Play, and at that name he wondered
greatly. There dwelt within, 'twas said, Lindo and Vaire who had built
it many years ago, and with them were no few of their folk and friends
and children. And at this he wondered more than before, seeing the size
of the cottage; but he that opened to him, perceiving his mind, said:
'Small is the dwelling, but smaller still are they that dwell here — for
all who enter must be very small indeed, or of their own good wish
become as very little folk even as they stand upon the threshold.'
Then
said Eriol that he would dearly desire to come therein and seek of
Vaire and Lindo a night's guest-kindliness, if so they would, and if he
might of his own good wish become small enough there upon the threshold.
Then said the other, 'Enter,' and Eriol stepped in, and behold, it
seemed a house of great spaciousness and very great delight, and the
lord of it, Lindo, and his wife, Vaire, came forth to greet him; and his
heart was more glad within him than it had yet been in all his
wanderings, albeit since his landing in the Lonely Isle his joy had been
great enough.
And when Vaire had spoken the words of welcome,
and Lindo had asked of him his name and whence he came and whither he
might be seeking, and he had named himself the Stranger and said that he
came from the Great Lands, and that he was seeking whitherso his desire
for travel led him, then was the evening meal set out in the great hall
and Eriol bidden thereto. Now in this hall despite the summertide were
three great fires — one at the far end and one on either side of the
table, and save for their light as Eriol entered all was in a warm
gloom. But at that moment many folk came in bearing candles of all sizes
and many shapes in sticks of strange pattern: many were of carven wood
and others of beaten metal, and these were set at hazard about the
centre table and upon those at the sides.
At that same moment a
great gong sounded far off in the house with a sweet noise, and a sound
followed as of the laughter of many voices mingled with a great
pattering of feet. Then Vaire said to Eriol, seeing his face filled with
a happy wonderment: 'That is the voice of Tombo, the Gong of the
Children, which stands outside the Hall of Play Regained, and it rings
once to summon them to this hall at the times for eating and drinking,
and three times to summon them to the Room of the Log Fire for the
telling of tales,' and added Lindo: 'If at his ringing once there be
laughter in the corridors and a sound of feet, then do the walls shake
with mirth and stamping at the three strokes in an evening. And the
sounding of the three strokes is the happiest moment in the day of
Littleheart the Gong-warden, as he himself declares who has known
happiness enough of old; and ancient indeed is he beyond count in spite
of his merriness of soul. He sailed in Wingilot with Eärendel in that
last voyage wherein they sought for Kôr.
It was the ringing of this Gong on the Shadowy Seas that awoke the
Sleeper in the Tower of Pearl that stands far out to west in the Twilit
Isles.'
To these words did Eriol's mind so lean, for it seemed to
him that a new world and very fair was opening to him, that he heard
naught else till he was bidden by Vaire to be seated. Then he looked up,
and lo, the hall and all its benches and chairs were filled with
children of every aspect, kind, and size, while sprinkled among them
were folk of all manners and ages. In one thing only were all alike,
that a look of great happiness lit with a merry expectation of further
mirth and joy lay on every face. The soft light of candles too was upon
them all; it shone on bright tresses and gleamed about dark hair, or
here and there set a pale fire in locks gone grey. Even as he gazed all
arose and with one voice sang the song of the Bringing in of the Meats.
Then was the food brought in and set before them, and thereafter the
bearers and those that served and those that waited, host and hostess,
children and guest, sat down: but Lindo first blessed both food and
company. As they ate Eriol fell into speech with Lindo and his wife,
telling them tales of his old days and of his adventures, especially
those he had encountered upon the journey that had brought him to the
Lonely Isle, and asking in return many things concerning the fair land,
and most of all of that fair city wherein he now found himself.
Lindo
said to him: 'Know then that today, or more like 'twas yesterday, you
crossed the borders of that region that is called Alalminore or the
"Land of Elms", which the Gnomes call Gar Lossion, or the "Place of
Flowers". Now this region is accounted the centre of the island, and its
fairest realm; but above all the towns and villages of Alalminore is
held Koromas, or as some call it, Kortirion, and this city is the one
wherein you now find yourself. Both because it stands at the heart of
the island, and from the height of its mighty tower, do those that speak
of it with love call it the Citadel of the Island, or of the World
itself. More reason is there thereto than even great love, for all the
island looks to the dwellers here for wisdom and leadership, for song
and lore; and here in a great korin of elms dwells Meril-i-Turinqi. (Now
a korin is a great circular hedge, be it of stone or of thorn or even
of trees, that encloses a green sward.) Meril comes of the blood of
Inwe, whom the Gnomes call Inwithiel, he that was King of all the Eldar
when they dwelt in Kôr.
That was in the days before hearing the lament of the world Inwe led
them forth to the lands of Men: but those great and sad things and how
the Eldar came to this fair and lonely island, maybe I will tell them
another time.
'But after many days Ingil son of Inwe, seeing this
place to be very fair, rested here and about him gathered most of the
fairest and the wisest, most of the merriest and the kindest, of all the
Eldar. Here among those many came my father Valwe who went with
Noldorin to find the Gnomes, and the father of Vaire my wife, Tulkastor.
He was of Aule's kindred, but had dwelt long with the Shoreland Pipers,
the Solosimpi, and so came among the earliest to the island.
'Then Ingil builded the great tower and called the town Koromas, or "the Resting of the Exiles of Kôr",
but by reason of that tower it is now mostly called Kortirion.' Now
about this time they drew nigh the end of the meal; then did Lindo fill
his cup and after him Vaire and all those in the hall, but to Eriol he
said: 'Now this which we put into our cups is limpe, the drink of the
Eldar both young and old, and drinking, our hearts keep youth and our
mouths grow full of song, but this drink I may not administer: Thurinqi
only may give it to those not of the Eldar race, and those that drink
must dwell always with the Eldar of the Island until such time as they
fare forth to find the lost families of the kindred.' Then he filled
Eriol's cup, but filled it with golden wine from ancient casks of the
Gnomes; and then all rose and drank 'to the Faring Forth and the
Rekindling of the Magic Sun'. Then sounded the Gong of the Children
thrice, and a glad clamour arose in the hall, and some swung back big
oaken doors at the hall's end — at that end which had no hearth. Then
many seized those candles that were set in tall wooden sticks and held
them aloft while others laughed and chattered, but all made a lane
midmost of the company down which went Lindo and Vaire and Eriol, and as
they passed the doors the throng followed them.
Eriol saw now
that they were in a short broad corridor whose walls half-way up were
arrassed; and on those tapestries were many stories pictured whereof he
knew not at that time the purport. Above the tapestries it seemed there
were paintings, but he could not see for gloom, for the candlebearers
were behind, and before him the only light came from an open door
through which poured a red glow as of a big fire. 'That,' said Vaire,
'is the Tale-fire blazing in the Room of Logs; there does it burn all
through the year, for 'tis a magic fire, and greatly aids the teller in
his tale — but thither we now go,' and Eriol said that that seemed
better to him than aught else.
Then all that company came
laughing and talking into the room whence came the red glow. A fair room
it was as might be felt even by the fire-flicker which danced upon the
walls and low ceiling, while deep shadows lay in the nooks and corners.
Round the great hearth was a multitude of soft rugs and yielding
cushions strewn; and a little to one side was a deep chair with carven
arms and feet. And so it was that Eriol felt at that time and at all
others whereon he entered there at the hour of tale-telling, that whatso
the number of the folk and children the room felt ever just great
enough but not large, small enough but not overthronged.
Then all
sat them down where they would, old and young, but Lindo in the deep
chair and Vaire upon a cushion at his feet, and Eriol rejoicing in the
red blaze for all that it was summer stretched nigh the hearthstone.
Then
said Lindo: 'Of what shall the tales be tonight? Shall they be of the
Great Lands, and of the dwellings of Men; of the Valar and Valinor; of
the West and its mysteries, of the East and its glory, of the South and
its untrodden wilds, of the North and its power and strength; or of this
island and its folk; or of the old days of Kôr
where our folk once dwelt? For that this night we entertain a guest, a
man of great and excellent travel, a son meseems of Eärendel, shall it
be of voyaging, of beating about in a boat, of winds and the sea?" But
to this questioning some answered one thing and some another, till Eriol
said: 'I pray you, if it be to the mind of the others, for this time
tell me of this island, and of all this island most eagerly would I
learn of this goodly house and this fair company of maids and boys, for
of all houses this seems to me the most lovely and of all gatherings the
sweetest I have gazed upon.'
Then said Vaire: 'Know then that
aforetime, in the days of Inwe (and farther back it is hard to go in the
history of the Eldar), there was a place of fair gardens in Valinor
beside a silver sea. Now this place was near the confines of the realm
but not far from Kôr,
yet by reason of its distance from the sun-tree Lindelos there was a
light there as of summer evening, save only when the silver lamps were
kindled on the hill at dusk, and then little lights of white would dance
and quiver on the paths, chasing black shadow-dapples under the trees.
This was a time of joy to the children, for it was mostly at this hour
that a new comrade would come down the lane called Olore Malle or the
Path of Dreams. It has been said to me, though the truth I know not,
that that lane ran by devious routes to the homes of Men, but that way
we never trod when we fared thither ourselves. It was a lane of deep
banks and great overhanging hedges, beyond which stood many tall trees
wherein a perpetual whisper seemed to live; but not seldom great
glow-worms crept about its grassy borders.
'Now in this place of
gardens a high gate of lattice-work that shone golden in the dusk opened
upon the lane of dreams, and from there led winding paths of high box
to the fairest of all the gardens, and amidmost of the garden stood a
white cottage. Of what it was built, nor when, no one knew, nor now
knows, but it was said to me that it shone with a pale light, as it was
of pearl, and its roof was a thatch, but a thatch of gold.
'Now
on one side of the cot stood a thicket of white lilac and at the other
end a mighty yew, from whose shoots the children fashioned bows or
clambered by his branches upon the roof. But in the lilacs every bird
that ever sang sweetly gathered.and sang. Now the walls of the cottage
were bent with age and its many small lattice windows were twisted into
strange shapes. No one, 'tis said, dwelt in the cottage, which was
however guarded secretly and jealously by the Eldar so that no harm came
nigh it, and that yet might the children playing therein in freedom
know of no guardianship. This was the Cottage of the Children, or of the
Play of Sleep, and not of Lost Play, as has wrongly been said in song
among Men — for no play was lost then, and here alas only and now is the
Cottage of Lost Play.
'These too were the earliest children —
the children of the fathers of the fathers of Men that came there; and
for pity the Eldar sought to guide all who came down that lane into the
cottage and the garden, lest they strayed into Kôr
and became enamoured of the glory of Valinor; for then would they
either stay there for ever, and great grief fall on their parents, or
would they wander back and long for ever vainly, and become strange and
wild among the children of Men. Nay, some even who wandered on to the
edge of the rocks of Eldamar and there strayed, dazzled by the fair
shells and the fishes of many colours, the blue pools and the silver
foam, they drew back to the cottage, alluring them gently with the odour
of many flowers. Yet even so there were a few who heard on that beach
the sweet piping of the Solosimpi afar off and who played not with the
other children but climbed to the upper windows and gazed out, straining
to see the far glimpses of the sea and the magic shores beyond the
shadows and the trees.
'Now for the most part the children did
not often go into the house, but danced and played in the garden,
gathering flowers or chasing the golden bees and butterflies with
embroidered wings that the Eldar set within the garden for their joy.
And many children have there become comrades, who after met and loved in
the lands of Men, but of such things perchance Men know more than I can
tell you. Yet some there were who, as I have told, heard the Solosimpi
piping afar off, or others who straying again beyond the garden caught a
sound of the singing of the Telelli on the hill, and even some who
reaching Kôr
afterwards returned home, and their minds and hearts were full of
wonder. Of the misty aftermemories of these, of their broken tales and
snatches of song, came many strange legends that delighted Men for long,
and still do, it may be; for of such were the poets of the Great
Lands.'
'Now when the fairies left Kôr
that lane was blocked for ever with great impassable rocks, and there
stands of a surety the cottage empty and the garden bare to this day,
and will do until long after the Faring Forth, when if all goes well the
roads through Arvalin to Valinor shall be thronged with the sons and
daughters of Men. But seeing that no children came there for refreshment
and delight, sorrow and greyness spread amongst them and Men ceased
almost to believe in, or think of, the beauty of the Eldar and the glory
of the Valar, till one came from the Great Lands and besought us to
relieve the darkness.
'Now there is alas no safe way for children
from the Great Lands hither, but Meril-i-Turinqi hearkened to his boon
and chose Lindo my husband to devise some plan of good. Now Lindo and I,
Vaire, had taken under our care the children — the remainder of those
who found Kôr
and remained with the Eldar for ever: and so here we builded of good
magic this Cottage of Lost Play: and here old tales, old songs, and
elfin music are treasured and rehearsed. Ever and anon our children fare
forth again to find the Great Lands, and go about among the lonely
children and whisper to them at dusk in early bed by night-light and
candle-flame, or comfort those that weep. Some I am told listen to the
complaints of those that are punished or chidden, and hear their tales
and feign to take their part, and this seems to me a quaint and merry
service.
'Yet all whom we send return not and that is great grief
to us, for it is by no means out of small love that the Eldar held
children from Kôr,
but rather of thought for the homes of Men; yet in the Great Lands, as
you know well, there are fair places and lovely regions of much
allurement, wherefore it is only for the great necessity that we
adventure any of the children that are with us. Yet the most come back
hither and tell us many stories and many sad things of their journeys —
and now I have told most of what is to tell of the Cottage of Lost
Play.'
Then Eriol said: 'Now these are tidings sad and yet good
to hear, and I remember me of certain words that my father spake in my
early boyhood. It had long, said he, been a tradition in our kindred
that one of our father's fathers would speak of a fair house and magic
gardens, of a wondrous town, and of a music full of all beauty and
longing — and these things he said he had seen and heard as a child,
though how and where was not told. Now all his life was he restless, as
if a longing half-expressed for unknown things dwelt within him; and
'tis said that he died among rocks on a lonely coast on a night of storm
— and moreover that most of his children and their children since have
been of a restless mind — and methinks I know now the truth of the
matter.'
And Vaire said that 'twas like to be that one of his kindred had found the rocks of Eldamar in those old days.'