Ëyord and his wife dwelt in Ara, and the land grew in beauty beneath the hand of Arlyn, for she took of the tree-leaves and sang of forests and glades and clear, crystal rivers dancing merrily among the trees. And these things the lore-song from her lips formed from what Elonru bestowed upon the maiden and the lord, and they thanked The One, for as of yet their hearts were not heavy with shame.

And Elonru guided Ëyord to a place in the midst of Ara where four moulded forms lay in the dust. Closely they resembled the form of the Glimmdrad, yet in many respects they differed, and no breath was in them. One was short, broad-chested, with limbs of an oak tree’s girth. A second was even shorter than the first, but slighter of build and bestowed with a bountiful head of verdant curls. A third likeness was tall – much taller than Ëyord himself. He lay sprawled upon the ground as though he had meandered to exactly that spot so as to promptly plop upon the emerald earth and catch a wink or two. Yet Ëyord mused most over the last figure. The still form almost exactly mirrored the Glimmdrad’s bearing save that the ears were neither double-edged and tapered nor was the skin’s hue so pale. Thus The King showed Ëlonru their mien. The Glimmdrad asked whether they would walk and speak as he and Arlyn did.

‘Not yet. Their time is not come.’

This one thing, then, Elonru did command him not to sing into being – that of creating life. For the power to create out of nothing and to give breath of life was Elonru’s alone. To unlawfully claim that Kingship-right meant death upon the guilty creature on the very day of the evil deed’s doing. And Ëyord obeyed for a time. Yet only for a time.

The accursed, whom Elonru had cast out of the Third Veil, was loth and tormented to roam the nine realms, for Mirvoth’s heart was quickly darkening, and he now had no desire to return to The King – The One that Mirvoth had once called Friend and Master. The shadow espied the woman and the communion between Ëyord with Arlyn, and their beloved Maker.

Mirvoth then took the guise of a beast and feigned companionship to Arlyn, and in time she slowly harkened to the subtle voice of Mirvoth. Indeed, he counselled her to warn her husband that their Maker merely concealed from them the gifts of wisdom – for they also, even by the works of their own hands, should not even they become gods as well, knowing pure from fell? Should Elonru alone hold the power to create what He wished out of naught?

Thus, Arlyn listened to the deceit of Mirvoth, and she desired the wisdom that was not hers to possess. Therefore, she called Ëyord to stand beside her before the still figures in the dust and spoke to him the lie. Her lips opened and began issuing the forbidden song. Her husband, guardian of his wife, fell, for he joined the song; yet even as they sang, something grew amiss, for the only sound uttered was harsh, grating, foul discord. No more had they but uttered the first note than they were filled with shame. Mirvoth hissed in hatred and laughed, and the cacophony grew harsher and louder until Ëyord and Arlyn quavered at the destruction they had wrought.

A sudden clap of thunder, far exceeding in power over the raucous din, severed the wrenching strains, shattering them.  They were no more, but Ëyord and his wife hid in fear of Elonru. Mirvoth cowered and knew the deed was done.

Elonru descended from the East. His voice was quiet.

‘Ëyord.’

Indeed, He knew of their actions and whereabouts. And he turnt about and rebuked the foul creature, the third, towering form that had lain in the earth ere now: for Ëyord had indeed sung a song to give life that was not his to grant, and thus, he had given death to what would have been, for the creature had the mind of a beast, and in its lurking stare there was none of the Light of Elonru which shone in the Glimmdrad’s eyes.

Ëyord came forward and admitted to the deed, yet his words laid charge to Elonru for the woman The One bestowed upon him. The woman shrank away and cast the fault passed upon her to Mirvoth, who was writhing in the flame of terror before the Presence of Elonru.

For the fall of Ëyord, then, Elonru cursed the realms and severed the Second Veil so that none save those immaterial forms could any longer walk between the realms but must travel through portals and journey by oft-long and treacherous skye-seas. And death fell upon every realm beneath the First and Second Veils. Ëyord and Arlyn became mortal for the deed they wrought – that is, they bore the bane of its impending form; yet Elonru in mercy slayed another beast to cover their shame, for death must needs be the reward of their offence. So Ëyord and his wife were banished from Ara. And Mirvoth fled from the face of Elohim, the Prophecy pronounced against the fell phantom, that One would come who would avenge the Marring and damn the shadow. Thus the Prophecy is recorded in the Hasenrede.

In time, Arlyn bore two sons, the elder called Midran and the younger Ter. And Midran grew, and fell like his father before him, for he ended the life of his brother in rage for the latter’s acceptance in the sight of Elonru – and this account is recorded in the lore-song of the fall of Ëyord and his kin. For this Elonru set a mark upon Midran and sent him forth to wander among the wildlands.

And Ëyord and Arlyn grieved for Ter. Then Elonru summoned Ëyord; the latter watched in mourning as The One erased the dust from the earth below his feet. The faces of the three figures lay where Elonru removed them to wait until the time of their awakening was come, yet for Ëyord’s wrong would they awake among the shadowlands, where death and the accursed loomed.

Elonru lifted the body of Ter and gently lowered it beside the others. Blood ran red, staining the earth – this blood Elohim sprinkled over the Three, speaking thus to the bereft father:

“For the wrong thou has wrought must needs I have covered thee with the blood of a beast; so also will the blood of thy son be the price for the the life of these three. By this, the blood-lines of Dwarves, Gruagachs, and Men will pulse with thy blood, the blood of the Glimmdrad, but the fourth has woken only to live a barren death.”

And the strewn blood glistened as it seeped into the earthen vessels.

Elonru breathed deeply the Life-breath into each, and they awoke, and spake, and the Light of The One kindled their eyes.

Thus were born the blood-lines of the Eordän Realm.

The creature marred by the song of Ëyord also fled to the outer lands into the shadow of darkness. There are rumours now of fell, ravaging beasts taller than trees, with sinews of stone that can crush the back of an ox with a fist-blow. Some call them vorgs. Others call them giants.