There Comes A Time

Days passed into weeks into months.
Tyrannde and Larry spent time with each other and were content....for a while.

But there comes a time.....

Before These Tides, A History of the Dragon Rider (part five)

Upon the surface, the fury of the water was gradually lessoning. Concentric circles were decreasing, their hold on the dragon diminshing, until with one mighty strain of his body against their shackles, suddenly he pulled free.

His golden-scaled body soared dramatically upward, free from the watery grave that sought to be his end, and he trumpeted in victory, a firey call of freedom flaming from his mouth as he rose, the image that of a gigantic golden phoenix....rising....rising to heaven.



He soared so high into the sky that the eye could no longer see him, even as the now midday sun reflected its glory off the flaming golden body.
But....legends being true....and goldens being honorable above all....back downward he allowed his flightpath to take him, as he sought out the one in whose debt his life now rested. 

 She was there. Standing in the small waters of the waves that came to kiss briefly the shore, before Elune bade them return forever to her, the WindWhisperer watched the magnificent dragon now fly to her, land and bow at her feet....his gift of submission to her shown now and for always. The golden dragon lowered his body to the sands, stretched out his arched neck, and gave Tyrande his alleigence. She ran her hand down the length of his sunstreaked golden neck as she moved to him and climbed upon his back. She was protected now by those who ruled both the nights and the days, Elune the Moon, and this rare and precious golden dragon who was the Sun. And the dragon rose into the sky with Tyrannde Whisperwind singing in his ear, riding him into the heavens.

But where there is yin, there must also be yang, where there is good, there must also be the opposite of good, where there is a triumph, there must also be a fall, or those things of good, triumph, hope would be meaningless. The struggle does go on. Tyrannde was still the last of the Kaldorei and as the nights went on, the dragon was to believe, upon evidence (or lack thereof) from their nightly rides, that he was the last of his kind, too.

Were they whispering into the wind together but vain in the hope of ever finding.....more?

Before These Tides, A History of the Dragon Rider (part four)

May 25, 2012 1:37 pm    Post subject: Before These Tides (part four)
Tyrannde sent the pod of dolphins swimming with great speed in the opposite direction of the swirling whirlpool, as she dove from the safety of their backs and plunged deep into the cold waters of the sea. She hoped their reverse churning would slow the fierce velocity of the whirlpool, and allow her to literally get to the bottom of things. There would be no use to try and communicate with the dragon in its extreme state of panic and agitation. Act now and discuss later was her only plan. Swiftly swimming downward, she followed the vortex of the whirlpool as it extended down, down, down into the murky blue-gray waters, waters that as she went downward, darkened further. Nothingness seen, she swam on faith in the Mother who had always been there for her, who now surrounded her completely. She was sure of what she did not see, sure of what she hoped for....as her hands touched and ran along the crags and creviced wall of rock...and still downward she swam....sensing nothing, so far into the deep she was. Seconds, minutes passed as she went on, until the rock wall seemed to fall out beneath her and disappear, her hands were left to flail through the watery dark, without anchor. Suddenly she was pushed violently by a jetstream of water. Instantly she knew this was the source of power of the massive renegade waterwhirl. On a hunch, she opened her eyes, to see before her a beam of light emitted from the undersea floor upward. Water was being pushed from this hole in the ocean floor powerfully enough to speed it upward rapidly and create the whirlpool. She need only to occlude the hole. The sea world would then return to normal. She could do it with an underwater avalanche of the overhanging ledge of rock, if it could be jarred loose and fall to the floor. But how to create such a phenomenon in the sea? How would she do it on land? Her magic was in the music, in the voice, in the tone, in the sound. Vibrations of the same in disharmony and discordance as an action would birth a reaction of splintering, fragmenting, breaking away. She had seen it on a lesser scale when unhappy tones had been projected at Iniev and he cringed away in pain. Her gift would save the Golden One and likely save them all.

Before These Tides, A History of the Dragon Rider (part three)

She had wanted to sleep forever, had planned to sleep forever, but who can sleep with that kind of racket? Why did the guards not put a stop to it? And then she remembered...there were no guards. She was the last Kaldorei alive, at least on this side of the veil...almost the last creature alive, although a handful of the fae still attended her as personal protectors and companions. Now, without their great hometree for a safe haven, each morning she would select a secluded portion of the forest in which to take her rest, yet never would it be far from the Mother's waters.

It was those waters she heard now, with the over-sensitive ear of the elf of her kind, her ears pointed and delicate, yet with the ability to hear even the smallest of sounds, lowest of decibles. Water in severe turbulence sounds like nothing else, yet there was another clue that reached her ears, a sound she had not heard in years, but a sound that heard once, could never be identified as anything but: the screams of a dragon. Upon hearing the commotion, she sat up, fully aware and awake, but hardly believing. Perhaps she had dreamed it, a daymare of gigantic proportions based upon the tragedies of her past. This could not be real.
Could it?

The next instant found her catapulting out into the twilight of daybreak, leaving the sanctity of her hidden thicket, crossing an open field and sliding down the rocky faces of cliffs that descended to the sea below, singing as she went to call forth a pod of dolphins who crested at the water's edge in time to catch her and bear her out to sea....toward the sounds that had reached her, the sounds of some tremendous thrashing....someone...or most likely some thing of immense proportions.... fighting against the rolling waves....most likely insensible and frantic enough to be drowning.

As the dophins drew near, she could hardly believe the sight coming into her view. She was sure that only Ysera herself controlled the skies, even here, for nowhere along their route into these forests had there been any evidence to the contrary. Yet now, as the dophins slowly circled around the great swirling churning of sea, bringing her so close, there could be no mistake....caught within a rouge whirlpool,

and struggling for its very life....was a dragon...and not just any dragon, a golden dragon, rarest of the rare, most powerful of the powerful.

If she could do the creature this favor of freeing it, handing it its very life, she would garner undying gratitude from it forever and a day, or so said the legend. She would yet again become a dragon-rider and a formidable foe for Ysera, the great green flying she-monster that held Malfurion, and now Iniev, captive within the Emerald Dream. She held her breath, thinking about what a scene that would be, thinking about the possibilities of freeing Mal from the Dream so that he could escape Ysera's clutches, so that he could come back to her. And Iniev, her beautiful Blade, would come with him. It was a dream she dared not permit herself to hold as possible....until this very moment.

But first....she had to devise a way for this Golden One to escape...and not only that....she, Tyrannde, had to become.....its Savior.

 

Before These Tides, A History of the Dragon Rider (part two)

So it was the Eye of Ysera itself that Tyrannde Whisperwind stole as she escaped the clutches of the mighty dragon and the Emerald Dream. Fashioned in the form of a precious silver and mythril bracelet, dragons were etched into the bands, and directly in the center, lay a perfectly round multi-faceted emerald....the Eye of Ysera.



And while Tryannde thought this to be a crushing defeat for the Dragon Dreamkeeper, in a way, she played the part that Ysera would have had her play, all along. Dissention, jealousy and mistrust were running rampant in the midst of the Kaldorei leadership, namely Tyrannde and three of her Sons whom had joined with her to govern Aear Alda and be protectors to the Kingdom of Tides. None could trust the other, sure that their presence in the realm was for personal gain and glory, and not for the good of the whole. Tyrannde sought to soothe the chaffing by equalizing the responsibilities, a balancing of power, hoping it would lead to a balancing of wills (very strong ones, ah, so much testosterone!) and an equilateral bond of governance. Some of this was of her own doing, for try as she might, she could not conceal her greater affection for her youngest son, the one called the Beautiful Blade, and this was known to the other two, as it was indeed throughout all the Kaldorei. She loved them all, but for Iniev, there was something set apart....for wounded in spirit and broken in heart even as he was, his was the surest, the truest, the most divine heart she had ever known. There was an arrogance to him, yet a mystery, fed by great intelligence, coupled with the strongest will of honor of any of the Kaldorei warriors, present or past. Truth be told, there was more than his own mystery, there was also one that Tyrannde held deep within, so deep that not even Iniev himself suspected its existence and Tyrannde kept it that way, for to have him or anyone learn of it, would destroy the alliance of her Sons, as well as possibly the rest of the heart of Iniev, what was left of it, and that, Tyrannde could never bear. So she kept her mystery close to her heart and breathed not thought into it, lest any of her Sons probe her mind.

Because Iniev was her favorite, and because there was also a special relationship between Iniev and his brother Cestawan, and because the Third Blade recently returned to the Kaldorei after hundreds of years of exile for a wrong-doing he did not commit (and because in the meantime he had amassed and now commanded an army of quite considerable strength and power, not to mention he had also become a dragon-rider, something only one other elf in all the Kaldorei presently could accomplish, and that being Tyrannde), in an effort to equate all things between her three Sons, Tyrannde gave the Eye of Ysera to the Third Son. That proved to be disasterous. Iniev immediately became defensive to the point of paranoia, suspecting everyone of turning against him, Cestawan was overwrough to the point of serious illness and vacated his place at the alliance in deference to his own health (a position Tyrannde was not opposed to), and Number Three Son just had a pissy nature that nothing seemed able to improve, let alone some stupid silver bracelet that only clanged against the hilt of his fighting sword. Sheesh!! Let anything interfere with a guy's sparring and you just get one foul-mooded (and foul-mouthed) Son.

Such ripples of discontent between Tyrannde and her three sons sent waves of distress throughout the collective consciousness of all the Kaldorei people. The great strength of the Kaldorei is their affinity one for the other, their bond, which is a consciousness of all of them together, yet it can also be their Achilles heel. Through that bond flows their very life, from one to the other. The disharmony and distrust rampant in the Temple of Elune could not be disguised or contained for long and soon all the night elves were feeling its effects. Periodically Ysera used her "Eye" to scan the situation within Aear Alda and soon she, too, had learned of the serious rift occurring among the Kaldorei. During one particular difficult counsel meeting, it all unravelled. The Third Blade walked out of the counsel, effectively vacating his seat, taking his army with him....and the Eye of Ysera bracelet that his mother had given him. This so distressed Cestawan that he vacated his seat and left the Great Tree elfdom as well, vowing not to return until a lasting truce was in place and the Kaldorei were at peace among themselves. That left only Iniev the Youngest Blade and Tryannde, who were not speaking to one another, he under the impression that the taking of the bracelet, Eye of Ysera, by the Third Son signalled his personal doom to forever reside within the Emerald Dream and Ysera's control, like his father before him. Ysera, watching all of this through the Eye, seized her opportunity. Her attack on the Great Tree was swift and efficient. The Kaldorei had little heart to fight against her, or put another way, to fight for Tyrannde. With hearts so burdened, their magic was weak, they were vulnerable, and Ysera overwhelmed them easily. Most of the elves perished that day.

Tryannde Whisperwind walked out to meet Ysera, admit defeat and surrender, in order to stop complete annilation of her race, but Ysera wanted only one thing from her: the Eye. Tyrannde had to tell her that she no longer possessed it. Ysera was furious, naturally, and reached out to impale the defeated Leader with her immense talons, but Iniev stepped between them. Over Tryannde's screams, Ysera took his offering, but chose not to kill him, deciding he would better serve her by being imprisonned forever in the Emerald Dream, there at her beck and call, for all the rest of time. A frantic Tryannde tried to follow, but one must have a dragon to do that....and without the power of the bracelet of the Eye of Ysera....Tyrannde had no control over any of the dragons....as they were all Ysera's offspring.

Any conquerer knows that to truly defeat your enemy there is one thing you can never leave them with..... hope. Ysera's final act, before dissolving into the safety of her Emerald Dream with Iniev in her clutches, was to destroy the elves' Great Tree. The Kaldorei were beaten....and broken....and homeless. Fewer than four-score had survived. But so had Tyrannde. A grieving wife and now mother, a defeated warrior, to be sure, but her sworn duty was to preserve the Kaldorei race above all. They no longer had the home of the great Aear Alda. It looked as if there was no future for them.

And there was not. One by one, the Kaldorei that survived now succombed to that most fatal of all diseases, for the softness of heart that lay within them. Their will to live gone, they just faded away. And one night, as the first light of dawn began to streak the horizon, Tyrannde lay down to do the same....never to rise again.

But that was not to be....not....then.....

Before These Tides, A History of the Dragon Rider (part one)

She could listen forever to the Mother's Song.
Soothing, secretive, sensual.
A lulling rhythm echoed in varying decibels as Elune pulled her to the shore, then, fickle goddess that she was, changed Her mind and pushed her away again, like a lover who tempts and teases, but never fulfills. The pattern began again, then moved through to completion, stilling to silence, a pause between Her breaths, a heart-beat abruptly arrested like the end of a hiccup, a thought that this time was the last time.
Yet....it was not.
It had not been since before Tyrannde knew of her own existence, and it would not be until long after she ceased to be (even though her particular race of night elf lived for centuries -- not immortal, but man would beg to differ; only Elune knew better.)
The Mother had always been...since the day the Creator formed her.

She loved the Mother's song. It filled her completely and became her reason for listening, for living.
Constant, captivating, complete.
Comforting her when nothing else could. It had been her refuge in all manner of times - betrayal, inquisitiveness, strategy, ruthless aggression, deception and mistrust of the ones closest to her - yes, even when her heart was bruised and battered, something she dare not display to any of those around her, not her companies of the Sisterhood, not her guardian court of the fae, not the generals nor the strategists, not buried in the Blades of any of her five sons, not even the Beautiful one who lay deepest in her heart, especially not he!, not even Dorak her closest protector and confidant - no, no one - only the song of the Mother could she cling to, with every sense of her body, as she was overwhelmed, completely immersed within Her glory, until slowly she could feel the panic yield to peace - blissful, faithful, incomparable peace.

Tyrannde loved the Mother most when she was fully surrendered to her, when her eyes were filled, her nose was filled, her ears were filled, her body was buoyed by the sweet, soothing, wet waters, when she was One with the sea. It was unique, the way of their joining. She recognized it as such early on in her life, intuitively knowing even then, this.....this....set her apart from others of her people, made her....different. But it was a place in which Tryannde was comfortable. She welcomed it, explored it, embraced it. The Spirit of the Mother moved into her, driven by the unrelenting force of her omnipresent waves, and together they skimmed over the face of all in unmatched power - the earth, the waters, the heavens, even the Emerald Dream.

The Emerald Dream had been Tyrannde's end, along with all her race, the Kaldorei.
Mated to the most powerful Druid in their culture's history, Malfurion Stormrage, it was he who had saved them all and sacrificed himself to the Dream, allowing its guardian, that great green dragon Ysera, to capture him, so that Tyrannde and all their people might escape. But as she fled, Tyrannde stole something very precious to Ysera. The great beast's roars of anger rattled the world for many nights without ceasing, bringing the fear into the Kaldorei hearts that she and her dragon-army spawns were making preparations for coming out of the Dream to launch a strike upon the great Home Tree, Aear Alda, of the Kaldorei. Eventually, however, Ysera came to realize that she was thwarted - that to leave the Emerald Dream as guardian and deal with the thief would leave Malfurion, and the other dreamers, exposed, unguarded -- they could be rescued -- which would mean the end of the Dream and all who lived within its bounds.
If there are no dreamers, then there can be no dream, and no participants therein.
Relunctantly, Ysera remained.

But her anger grew.
It became an itch, then a yearning, and at last her reason for being, festering inside her like an abcess that has no release.
She spent every moment planning and calculating, scheming to find a way to pay Tryande back and reclaim that which was hers.
Revenge is a powerful motivator. It cannot be held back forever. Such is the sinful nature of the world and all its creatures herein.

And eventually came the day when Ysera succeeded.
 

To Where You Are

Perfection.

You are like the petals of nature's finest jewel

That bloom only perfect on one day in all of history.

One......and only one.....

Thy name seeps from the lips with every fevered breath

Taken in deepest dreams

Inspired inspirations, exhales of regret

That touch each who turn to listen.

Heartbeats.   Heart.....beats.....

Crescendo of ocean's roar, blood's tide

That ebbs and flows upon the Shore of my Soul.

Feel the push-pull of Mother Moon as she rules o're us

Wandering alone in the night.

Push.......pull.....

Solitude is not being lonely, merely alone.

I have never left you.

And I never will.

It was a promise I made him so long ago now that I do not recall the time of it.

But that matters not, in a world where time has no life

and life has no time.

The promise is the thing.

I thought I felt him,

riding the darkness of the storm,

coming back to me.

Yet in the quiet of my heart,

there is no other
either there or appearing on the sea in front of me.

I have kept his watch.  Days, months, more.  As he would do, were he here.
He did not think I knew of this, this watch of personal vigil he kept, yet what is it that the one half of the other does not know? 
So much akin we are as to be twin flames of the same taper,
one wick, one source, two entities,
sometimes flickering as one,
sometimes rising and falling of a separate accord.

We cannot always see the truth, for we do not know it all, but only our part,
Yet is it not all there, just all the same? 
And so it has proven, yet again. 
I am sure that all things are connected, even if we do not know how it would be so.  Events are interconnected, braided together to make the chain of one's life.
I am but impatient for the thing that I know will happen, eventually.
I will dwell on it yet again, in a night or two, but for now, I am weary.
I must make my way back to the Temple of Elune, for the watch to come, for the prayers that have become my life.  There my strength will return for I know from whence it comes.
Yea, I have only to have  patience and to believe. 

Now in understanding of the full circle of the moon's journey I say the words of my heart back again to him, I say again the prayer with which I began.  It is the last task I do every night, and always the same, for it gives me some small measure of comfort that all is in order and that one day the promise will be fulfilled. 

I cannot explain how I know, but I know, as surely as I know my heart beats, that no matter the distance between us, he is there, gazing at the same sky, the same moon, repeating the same promise to himself, even as am I. 

I know you hear me.
For you are only a breath away.
And a breath away is not too far......
.....to where..... you are. 

Therefore I shall wait upon you.
I have Patience, in all her winged splendor, firmly bonded to me, now,
And she will fail me not.
I shall wait upon you, and my strength shall rise, as I do so.
So that for as long as it takes, I shall wait upon you,
even as I wait upon the Lord.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTdqdOC2DtI

Who can say for certain
Maybe you're still here
I feel you all around me
Your memory, so clear

Deep in the stillness
I can hear you speak
You're still an inspiration
Can it be
That you are mine
Forever love
And you are watching over me from up above

Fly me up to where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile to know you're there
A breath away's not far
To where you are

Are you gently sleeping
Here inside my dream
And isn't faith believing
All power can't be seen

As my heart holds you
Just one beat away
I cherish all you gave me everyday
'Cause you are my
Forever love
Watching me from up above

And I believe
That angels breathe
And that love will live on and never leave

Fly me up
To where you are
Beyond the distant star
I wish upon tonight
To see you smile
If only for awhile
To know you're there
A breath away's not far
To where you are

I know you're there
A breath away's not far
To where you are