Through the Window

Okay, some people may not like this idea, but I thought that the elves should roughly be able to speak Naimh's native tongue of galeic/latin, since that is what their own language is mainly composed of.
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Disclaimer: The characters and lands in this story that are known as those of Tolkien's brilliant mind belong COMPLETELY to him and to him alone. I do not wish to steal them from him nor make any money off of this story. I am making no money off of this story, and while only some of the characters belong to me ( ex. Niamh, Donnaghue, faeries, ect. ) the rest of the characters and the lands and the myths of Middle Earth ALL BELONG TO MR. TOLKIEN ALONE!!!! ^ ^*' again, I am making absolutley NO money off this story!! And this applies to all of my chapters.
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A long time ago in Ireland, young Niamh stood before her open window, gazing afar over the hills and over the moors, her fiery hair blew with the dance of the wind. The day was over and it was now twilight, the eve of Midsummer’s.
Niamh held in her hands a silver goblet of finest make and though she was not wealthy, in it was red wine and sugar. A delicious drink, aye, but the girl did not drink of it. Instead, she held it high and looked within it.
An egg yolk. An egg yolk lay over the wine. It was some sort of little magic, this egg yolk was, for it was a belief in olden days to put the yolk of an egg into water or wine in a glass and leave it upon the sill of a window from dawn till the setting of the sun. When the sun set and the goblet, the wine and the egg yolk were untouched, then the yolk would take on the shape of one’s fortune; weather it be love, death, wealth, prosperity or power.
Now Niamh looked within the silver goblet. She saw there a strange formation that she did not know the meaning of, for it was unlike anything she had ever seen. It appeared to be something to the sort of a dagger, only the tip bore what seemed to be a star shining bright and then a rose beside it. The image was very clear, clearer than ever it ad been. But its meaning was not so clear.
Niamh furrowed her brow and sat the goblet upon the window sill once more.

From outside of the young girl’s chamber door, Niamh could hear as her mother and father stirred in their bed. She turned swiftly and ran to lay upon her own bed as she heard her father’s footsteps upon the wooden floor. With a heavy sigh and a resounding belch, Niamh’s father came to her chamber door and listened against its posts.
“Go to sleep, Niamh, daughter.” He said wearily and with a slight chuckle. “It is the eve of midsummer’s and if you do ot soon fall to sleep, ye’ll be taken away from us all by faerie men!”
“Is that so bad a punishment...?” There came a muffled call from within the chamber and the father burst out in laughter at his daughter’s words. Then, as he rapped three times upon Niamh’s door and entered, he saw the girl laying still and silent. But she could not remain solemn when her father pulled at her ears.
“Faerie men shan’t do to you what I know you wish.” Said the father.
With a laugh, Niamh shot from beneath her eidledown and ran to the window sill, taking the silver goblet to her father.
“Do you see what the egg yolk has shaped for me?” She asked and glanced questioningly upon her father.
“Oh, ho!” Her father exclaimed, “Magic do we have here, daughter?” and he studied the egg yolk intently, seeing what shape it had taken.
“Ah!” Said he at last, “It is some right powerful magic ye have here daughter! Your fortune lies beneath me very eyes!”
“Yes, yes, father, as it lies before you now so it lay before me, but I did not know its meaning. Nor do I know it now.”
Her father was silent a moment before he finally said: “Its meaning is... quite... er... um...well it is... not-- not so... not so clear.” and he turned the goblet and the yolk every which way, vainly trying trying to see the meaning of the fortune, but still he did not know. “There is a dagger,” He continued, “donned with a shining star and a red, red rose. Dagger means power or... death.”
“Death?”
“Aye, but that cannot be for you, for you are safe here, girl.” Her father smiled and kissed Niamh upon her brow. Rising, he went to the door and bid his child a good night, leaving her then alone to sleep.

Niamh sighed and lay her head upon her pillow and her body beneath eidledown. The silver goblet she held still in her hands as she soon fell to a deep slumber.

The night drew onward, slowly, dully the stars were overcome by the black clouds of some oncoming storm.
Niamh leapt soundly in her bed. The silver goblet had fallen to the floor and the wine was spilled over the wood. Her fiery locks fell over her shoulders and her chemise shone white in the darkness of her chamber, penetrated only by the faint, faint moonlight that came through the clouds and through her window.
As she slept, Niamh-- of course --did not see as a light shuddered in the distance atop a great hill that was taller than the others.
When the moments passed on and ever on, the shuddering light atop the hill grew in brightness and clarity and even inleangth and width; to one who was awake and saw such goings on, it would seem that the very hill had opened!
From the hill there poured a chorus of song. Many shadows came forth. Indeed, the hill had opened up and now from it came the Tuatha De Dannan, the faerie folk of Ireland, their young lord Donnaghue marching at their head.
Midsummer’s eve is treasured among the faeries ( or so we are led to believe ) and now they danced or marched over the hills and moors until they came to Niamh’s father’s sheep fields, harps were in their hands and roses upon their feet.
“Too ra loo ra loo ra la,” They sang, “Over the hills and over the dales, sing we now to the stars above.” and their song was loud and beautiful.
But, their words awoke Niamh as she slept and she arose with a start at the faerie song. As she went to the window, she gasped. The faeries danced upon her her father’s sheep fields, and their light from their hill poured upon them, brightening their forms.
Niamh cried out incredulously at the sight of the faeries and hitched her chemise about her knees. For fear of waking her mother and father, the young girl hoisted herself upon the open window sill and leapt through it, creeping silently along the wall of her hut until she came to the stone wall that divided the land of her hut and the land of her father’s fields. She knelt behind it in hiding from the Fair Folk, and she looked upon them through the cracks and holes in the stones.

The faeries danced a mere stone’s throw from Niamh. Their faces were happy and delightful as they sang their merry songs of love and magic undisturbed by aught.

Ribbons flew about them though they did not hold any, lights danced between their feet, lights that were simply thus, light.
The faeries themselves were beautiful. THeir eyes were as black as midnight, their skin as white as snow and they were all of them tall, tall as a young yew tree in the wood.

Niamh could contain herself no longer. She felt her need dire to be nearer to the Tuatha De Dannan and to see them all the better. So she crept along the wall until she came to the gate, which she opened with nary a creak or groan to be heard.
Then, hiding in what shadows there were, she crept to the faeries, drawing slowly ever closer. At last, she was feet from them.

In the passion and fury of their dance, the faeries could not see Niamh lying so very near to them. The young, happy girl smiled o be in their presence.
Their feet trodded the groung softly as they all of them danced and they were having great fun,but then one among them shrieked horribly as if in fear.

Niamh’s blood froze in her veins as she saw the Tuatha De Dannan all turn to her. Anger, a furious and burning anger, raged through their immortal eyes.
One stepped from among among the faeries and came before Niamh. He was He was tall and fair, his hair of ebony black that flowed behind him as he glided over the grass shone in eh light of the moon.
He looked upon the girl and said:
“Hail, wench, what brings you here?”
Niamh soon began to tremble in fright as she looked within the faerie man’s eyes seeing there an anger so great as one she had never seen, though his voice was calm and in this way he was threatening and dark.

“This is my father’s land, sir.” Niamh replied. The faerie man laughed slightly, a laugh that was drawn out and false as he wrenched Niamh by the hair of her head to her feet, throwing her then among the crowd of Fair Folk.
“Do you not know, girl,” Donnaghue said quietly as he whispered in her ear, “that if you do not go to bed on the eve of midsummer’s or if you should wake during the night and see strange sights, the faeries will come to take you away so that the secret of our folk will remain safe.”
and he pushed her away, and she fell to her feet, the other faeries lifting her up.
“Take no mind to the presence of the mortal!” said wryly and commanded his folk to dance once more.

Niamh danced with the faeries and for a time it seemed that their dance was slow and easy. However, as the moon rose ever higher, the faerie dance grew ever quicker. Soon, Niamh no more strove to dance, but to merely stay on her feet.
The faeries danced without tire, but Niamh’s feet soon became weary and they bled from the sharpness of small rocks. The faeries tore at her flesh and cursed her for intruding upon their merrymaking. At length, Niamh fell to her knees and crawled away from her torture.

“Forgive me!” She cried as they came for her, “I meant no wrong! Pray, pray, suffer me to leave you be!” but the faerie lord Donnaghue came to her and knelt before her, raising her chin to meet his black gaze.
“You wished so very dearly to see us and to dance with us... well, if you fear death, death that you will surely receive in remaining here...” He looked to his folk as they whispered slowly “Arda”.
Niamh did not know what their words meant, but still it frightened her and she hid her hands in fear and also in shame of her damned curiosity in the first place.

“Come.” The faerie lord commanded, pulling Niamh to her feet and taking hold of her arm. “I shall take you to a land where your punishment will be served to you.”
“Punishment for what crime?!”
The faerie lord turned swiftly upon her and struck her o’er her distraught face and she fell to the ground with a small cry. He wrenched her to him once more and hissed: “No mortal watches faeries dance without some punishment! You are not worthy to witness such beauty!”
“Beauty I saw none!” Niamh lied as she pulled in vain at the faerie’s grasp upon her chemise. “Your dance differs not from that of a clumsy mortal... wench... like me!” Her words were hindered thereafter by a deathly grasp about her neck as the faerie lord held her fast; she sputtered and choked as he tightened his grasp, his eyes burning with a fury that was un surpass able.
“You... wench!” The faerie hissed. He tightened his grasp once more for a breif moment and then he let the girl fall to the ground all in a heap, gasping for breath.

Donnaghue went to where Naimh lay and lifted her roughly into his arms. “You must learn the penalties for watching a faerie dance on such a sacred night as this.” He said as he came to the banks of a river.
There was no more light as the moon was overcome by black clouds and the light from the faerie hill was far away. Niamh’s eyes widened ass he saw the raging waters of the river, and she clung desperately to the faerie’s robe if terror.
The faerie pulled her hands from him and lifted her into the air.
“Go now to Arda and be forever punished! Such a crime as you have committed says that you should suffer all your life.” And he drew her back to him, hissing in her ear with a sultry voice, “Had you merely watched our dance, you would have been my slave. But you questioned my reasoning and insulted our dance as well. You diserve nobetter than what you shall recieve. Never will you have a restful moment. Hardships will cling to you and you will suffer untill your death... perhaps even then you will not rest.” And with no more a word, the faerie hurled Niamh into the river, her cries echoing over the hills as she screamed out into the night for her rescue from the raging waters.
The waters overcame her as sh sank beneath their surface andher vision was black. She could hear nothing but her own screams as she came to the surface once more, though now the river had carried her away and she was no more insight of her hut or the faerie gathering.
‘Oh... if only I were not so foolish..’ She thought as she felt the hands of the river drag her beneath the tormenting water. 'Oh... that I might live to see my father and mother once more.'
Clearly, she had not heard what punishment the faerie had said that she would recive... It was not death