Mother Song
A LOTR Ficlet by Priestess Vesta

Rating: G
Category: AU
Pairing(s):
Warnings: None
Summary:
Notes: A while back I got permission to write within the Last Homely House world by Mistress Rat. I finally got what I needed for inspiration, the song that is named here. So, Mistress Rat...I dedicate this to you lovies. Thank you for blessing my life with youself, your story and your characters. You and they have made a profound impact on my Spiritual life. May the Lady of Light bless you my sweets.

Beta by IgnobleBard.

The song that Frost sings is Mother Song from the Pilgrim Heart album by Krishna Das.

The night was awash with the scents of night-blooming jasmine and moist earth, green grasses and moonlit waters. Elrond, who had been bathing in a small inlet of the Bruinen, looked up at the sound of soft chanting. He moved forward to look past the branches of the willow tree, under which he was bathing.

Under the light of the full moon, the Plains Elves were slowly entering the water, to stand within a circle. They were all nude, except for those who were pregnant. They wore khitons made of cotton, the tunic like garments covering them in soft flowing folds.

The circle opened to allow Frost and Elrohir in, closing once again as they entered into the waters. The soft chant continued softly as the two within the middle allowed the light of the Moon to wash over them, bathing within her rays and absorbing her energies.

As Frost raised his hands in supplication, his staff held in his right, all faced the East and joined him in this time and place between the worlds. The soft chanting faded into complete silence.

Then Frost’s voice rang out.

“Oh, most ancient and mighty powers of the East, breath of life, bringers of speech and thought, wild tempests and gentle breezes, join us! With this staff, I call the mystic winds from where the soaring hawks ride the golden sunrise with freedom at their wingtips. Spirits of air, illuminate our lives and bring us purity of thought.”

Elrond watched as they all turned as one to face the South, Elrohir unsheathing a dagger that had been strapped to his thigh, and raised his arms. He also spoke loud and clear.

“Oh, most ancient and mighty powers of the South, living light, fires of passion and driven will, heat of the deep earth and unfailing sun, attend us! With this dagger, I call the tower of the sacred flame, which the mischevious salamander, shows us may bring light and warmth or may turn and destroy. Spirits of fire, transform our hearts to bring us courage and strength.”

Elrond settled himself down more comfortably as he continued to watch, awed by the beauty before him. Vilya sparkled upon his finger in response to the powers being raised. He watched as one of the Elves stepped forward and placed a wooden bowl into Frost’s free hand. Frost bent over slightly to dip it into the river and then raised it up in offering. They were all now facing the West.

“Oh, most ancient and mighty powers of the West, heart of the seas, bringers of the thundering rains, deep emotion and inner peace, join us! With this water, I call the sparkling tides of the west where the great air breathing fish play in the reflection of the setting sun and where the roar of the mighty waterfall is as old as time. Spirits of water, cleanse us and bring us love.”

The water was poured reverently back into the river and the bowl passed back to the waiting Elf. They all turned to face the north, and Elrond watched Elrohir draw a small pouch open that had been attached to the sheath on his thigh. His son tipped it and Elrond watched salt pour into his son’s hand. Elrohir lifted it and spoke out:

“Oh, most ancient and mighty powers of the North, sheltering forest, bringers of the strength and majesty of mountain and valley, stability of the earth who’s music echoes in the buried rocks and the wildwood, come to us! With this salt, I call the essence of the great plains to provide strength and protection for the people and where the wolf roams wild. Spirits of earth, bring us wisdom and clarity of purpose.”

Elrohir tipped his hand and let the grains of salt pour gently into the water. Frost and Elrohir now stood side by side, their hands raised once again in suplication to the moon. All was silent except for the softly flowing waters of the Bruinen. Then Frost raised his voice in song.

“Wander wild and homeless, all roads lead to you.
Riding wind and laughing at the moon.
Don’t know who or what I am, in your arms awhile.
Face of babe before it knows to smile.
My heart wrapped in your blanket sky.
We are here but there’s no trace.
Everywhere I turn, you kiss my face.”

Elrond’s eyes filled with tears at the beautiful but melancholic tones of the song. Here was the last of a proud race before him, a race that had come close to being no more upon Arda. A race that was as ancient as Arda herself, a people that stood firm in the face of it’s enemies.

He offered up his own silent prayers to Ithil, giving thanks for the blessings within his life. He watched as all but Frost and Elrohir silently left, leaving the two in meditation, the full moon washing over them. Elrond bowed slightly in their direction, reverence showing upon his face at having witnessed such a sacred act. He silently left the small pool and after drying and dressing, left the three alone.

Frost, Elrohir and the Moon. Three of the most beautiful beings he had ever laid eyes upon.