NationStates Jolt Archive

Cárien pressed her thin fingers lightly against the keyboard as she continued her quest for information. Her somber gray eyes stared into the semi-holographic screen as they absorbed a wealth of knowledge that only she was capable of handling. Her tired hands stopped and rested, and she stood. Cárien moved to her bed to sit awhile.

Seated on her bed, she looked to the balcony. As an impulse struck her, she sensed that she must go observe the world outside. Standing on the balcony, the elf allowed the soft wind to grab at her thin gown and let it float on her body in fluttering waves. Her eyes looked upon a bright, luminous moon that touched the pale beach with gentle care, softly guiding the waves to their destinies upon the shore. Cárien closed her eyes, and stood in a moment of powerful bliss. The Noldor’s enchanting figure seemed to glow with a magical aura as the orb of night reached to her. The sound of waves rushed to her ears, their crashing on the beach resonating throughout her little land. She then heard the soft sounds of music playing, and smiled while remaining in her captivating state. From beyond, Cárien heard the voices of her people begin to sing in unison. It was a somber song, one of remembrance. The chords of her voice too struck out against the world, meshing with the very fiber of the air that surrounded Cárien’s innocence.

And what a strange sight it might have all seemed to the outsider, lost in a world of wonderment and amazement. And what strange joy the outsider would feel, able to overcome the oddity of it and accept it as a beautiful and enchanting event. The elves of Nirandor were Etarosi at heart, and this song they sung was in remembrance of that past. They sang of a past in which their missing Father, Ëtaros Eledhwen nós Fëanor, ruled a land in which they could revel in their culture and be happy. The land that they had woven their hearts and bodies into had become desecrated by greed and filth. It had become poisoned with human desire, never to be the same again. The elves that remained in Etaros were somewhat looked down upon, for they continued to accept that which was awful and horrible. The kinslaying, the burnt corpses, the worship of evil and servility to the inferior…it was beyond comprehension for these pure specimens of elvenkind.

And so, with their clear tears streaming their faces, they failed not to create the most beautiful song in the night. Their little refuge, Nirandor, had become the island of peace. It was their treasure, the beauty by which they could survive as a race. Their music resonated only at a stronger pace now, their voices cried out louder as they became more involved with the ushering of a new dawn. Unified, the elves of Nirandor wept and sang, all the while playing the music of beauty. Cárien turned aside as she held her voice back from the atmosphere, suddenly devouring the air of the very thing that made it beautiful. As if called upon, the others on the island too stopped their songs of sorrow. The moon faded in way of a light mist that sunk onto the island, which then turned into a soft fog.

Cárien closed her eyes with sadness as the fog settled over their refuge. She nodded her head. It is our fate. We shall live in despair forever, or learn to accept that which is evil. We must not do either…

Her husband from afar cried to her. Dearest Cárien, it is fated that you should live in sadness! Oh, how I wish you could free yourself of this bond with gloom and the dreary. You know what you desire, my love, and I should heed caution. Our son will grow with you to be one of a kind, and he will lead the elves of Nirandor to greatness. It will come to pass that not even you will be able to smile at the sound of our song, for you will have regretted everything in your life despite your intentions. I have foreseen it.

She looked to the barely visible moon for inspiration. So have I, dearest Namroth. I know that our son shall see gladder days than what I can dream. I have seen the return of my Uncle, so that the child shall be reared to become the greatest of all our kind. It is my Uncle’s final passing that will render me unable to summon even the faintest spirits of joy, and I shall wither from the Earth. Do not fear, though, my love. I will have Nirandor survive and prosper in the way of the Elves, despite my own dread of it.

The two shared an everlasting bond that could not be broken, and they understood the others’ feelings to a frightening degree. It was this bond that allowed Namroth to convince his wife and love that she must not allow her paradise to wither as she would, but let it explore what the world could offer. He promised to work as hard as possible to ensure that the filth of humanity would not touch the island so long as she desired it.

With a passing wind, the Kementári allowed herself to lay and rest. As she slept, the fog lifted itself from the virgin island. In her dreams, she saw what Nirandor was to become – a force to be reckoned with in a small field of international affairs. It worried her as she slept on, and she unconsciously came to fear what would result of this status from that night forth. The moonlight began to wane as the night passed into dawn, and the red sun grasped at the horizon.

OOC: If you haven’t figured it out already, this is Etaros. No, I’m not making a new nation to move on to, but this is going to be an interesting plot device and I’ll probably use Nirandor as my little elven outpost from now on. I also intend to have it enlarge in population…there are a number of other islands around that can be utilized for such a purpose. Oh, and Nirandor is located in the North Atlantic. Any questions can be answered through TG or on IRC. This is pretty much open to anyone (I’ll need to clear you first for the purpose of preventing idiocy to prevail. If you’re allied with me through Etaros already assume it’s all right). I’ll work on a post establishing relations with the outside world tomorrow.

The island was at a peaceful rest as the red sun slowly burned into orange, and then fused into a magnificent yellow as it pushed itself wearily over the horizon of endless blue ocean. The Nalani Canal was busy as usual in the island’s lone city of Nahatros. Ships stopped and docked at the many warehouses lining the enormous construct that allowed easy passage into the city and through the small island. Their horns blew as they called all hands to deck and sailed off loaded with goods or replenished on their journeys. Nirandor was a sort of rest stop, but it was also gaining in mercantile influence as its discounts and cheap goods were becoming a hot commodity for those that trekked through the island nation’s small ports.

Though commercial and industrial Nahatros was, it was also completely surrounded by forest. Oaks, hickories, and other mysterious trees grew upon the blessed earth as if they were many thousands of years old. Twisted trunks spiraled into thick flaying branches overhead, providing a nice canopy for those that wished to walk through the forests. It was in these forests that Cárien often walked alone at night with her favorite animal, the somewhat sentient white tiger Cahathor. The elvenqueen liked to be at peace with nature and often took great pride in her ability to discover an island so beautiful and magical, teeming with life and vibrancy little known to the rest of the world. These forests were the inspiration for her writings, her poems, her music and song, and her powerful desire to protect their livelihood at all costs.

Such a thing was becoming a difficulty, because Etarosi elves were beginning to hear of the refuge that had been established. Though higher taxes could have dissuaded them, they ignored the burden and packed their things anyway. There were rumors of a land with eternal moonshine and clear nights, only touched by fog when sadness called it. They spoke of a haven in which beautiful creatures roamed the forests and even into the streets of a city so pristine and so ancient in aura that it was simply beyond the imagination. Etarosi elves had long dreamed of such a paradise, at least among the more traditional element. And so they flocked, and flocked in droves. In a matter of a decade, the population of Nahatros doubled. Concerned for the survivability of the forests she loved so much, Cárien decreed that any newcomers were to position themselves on the other islands in the Ilyanos Islands. The government in Nahatros would administer their livelihood and ensure happiness. It was decreed further that any new settlements on any other islands that Nirandor claimed were not to exceed half the landmass. Also, very strict guidelines were set in place to make sure that the sustainability of the natural environment of Nirandoran domains was a major priority.

Nirandor had come from the stuff of legends (though admittedly still remained so) to a real and working nation-state. Their leader was Cárien, the Kementári and most beloved below her uncle Ëtaros. The Council of Nirandor advised her, a host of a few individuals she appointed to help her in governmental decisions. Though Nirandor was effectively non-democratic, it was indeed very concerned for the civil rights of its citizens. Cárien had established what amounted to a benevolent dictatorship, in which all her brethren respected the position she held.

So now, as the sun turned fully yellow, the Kementári wrote with her thin, pale hands as she formulated the necessary words for a speech to be addressed to the world. Though perhaps not totally wise, she felt it necessary. Cárien had her own interests in mind, as well as those of her island brethren. The deed would be done…the elf sought to rise to supremacy in trade and politics. She wished to far surpass the power of the Erasati Republic, personally loathing it as an affront to all that which her uncle worked so hard to establish during his reign. Thoughts of her uncle made her pause from writing. She looked to the blue sky. “I feel your presence, Ëtaros. If only I could feel your touch, it would bring me joy beyond that which I have ever known. You are missed. Come to your people, I beg you.” She started longingly at the blue sky outside, as if waiting for him to appear in front of her. However, no such apparition occurred, and Cárien returned to her draft.

The Enchanted Realm of Nirandor

An International Address

Dear Nations,

It is my pleasure as leader of my people to announce that Nirandor is willing to remove itself from the veils of isolation. We are emigrants of Etaros, a land that was once full of joy and purity, now poisoned by that which corrupts the minds of many. Greed has destroyed our homeland. Seeing the plight that was before it, many elves including myself escaped to find a better home.

We have found that home, and it has taken decades for us to adjust properly. We did so well, however, and we are now seeking international relations with others. It is my understanding that the Erasati Republic will not be seeking furthered relations, as it has made little to no attempt to do so in the past despite knowledge of our existence. Personally, I feel that this dismissal of Nirandor is probably best for the time being. I will not seek to cooperate anything beyond a distant friend of the Eratis’ government.

However, I am very interested in allowing my brethren in Nirandor to experience the pleasures that heightened trade with the outside world can bring. I am also interested in establishing diplomatic friendships with foreign nations, if not to better our cultures and gain much in the manner of politics and economics.

Nirandor is a small nation, and is one of peace and respect for that which surrounds us. We are indeed quite haughty and place defense of our islands as a major priority. I intend to extend my hand with an olive branch in my palm, but do not mistake the Nirandoran outreach for peace to be one of weakness. We are strong and proud of our achievements, and wish to celebrate them with others.

I wish you all well, and may the graces of the Earth be bestowed upon you.

Kementári Cárien Nahadaroth Eledhwen nós Fëanor
The Enchanted Realm of Nirandor

To: Kementári Cárien Nahadaroth Eledhwen nós Fëanor, The Enchanted Realm of Nirandor
From: Prefect Túrelio nos Fingolfin, Prefecture of State, Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar

Please allow us to extend our congratulations and encomiums on the successful establishment of your independent state. It is of course, manifest that we fully respect the sovereignty of both your own nation and that of Etaros itself. Our position towards Etaros is of course, one of immalleable and steadfast affinity, however, if you are of a mind to accept it, we also wish to form an appropriate congruity with you. It would of course, be our pleasure to inform our people of the opportunity of trade with your nation.

Postscript: Additionally, the Lady Sirithil asked me to relay to you her curiosity about which branch of the family you are from, if it is not too personal a question.

Cárien was seated at her desk when she received the first reply from the international community. Intrigued, the elf tapped the commands necessary to penetrate security protocol for her computer and read the message. It had been forwarded from the Committee of International Relations, a three-member body charged with directing the foreign policy of Nirandor. Obviously there were a host of subordinates and agencies, but each committee was headed by three elves, of which one was a member of the Council. The other two were Councillor-Secretaries that aided the Councillor of International Relations in his affairs.

Cárien noted that the message had been received from Menelmacar, considered one of the most powerful elven nations in the world and galaxy. She knew its history well, having studied it extensively throughout her education. The elf chose to reply personally, given the potential of a relationship with the Eternal Noldorin Empire.

To: Prefect Túrelio nos Fingolfin, Prefecture of State, Eternal Noldorin Empire of Menelmacar
From: Kementári Cárien Nahadaroth Eledhwen nós Fëanor, The Enchanted Realm of Nirandor

I must extend my gratitude for your swift reply to the message that Nirandor released to the world. I also thank you for the congratulations you have bestowed upon my state; the blessing of Menelmacar means much to me and our community of elves determined to live in a way that is peaceful and purifying to our souls.

With regard to Etaros, we have every intention of remaining on neutral grounds with our former land. It is my opinion, and the opinion of many here, that our homeland has been poisoned by a race of humans so determined to satiate their lusts for greed, money, and power that shall be forever spoiled. For that, we hold an everlasting grudge. However, it must be understood that we are a people of love and kindness -- revenge is for the uncivilized barbarians that have stolen what was ours. We will indeed maintain cordial relations with the Erasati Republic, but we shall shudder at the mention of its name.

It pleases me that Menelmacar seeks trade, and we are very open to such a prospect. If it would not be an inconvenience, perhaps a diplomat (or higher-ranking member within your government) could be hosted on our tranquil island? If not, I understand and will seek to create trade relations through long-distance contact. It should be noted, though, that when partners are intimate and direct about their desires in the face of each other, they tend to produce long-lasting, productive relationships. Any trade with Menelmacar should be nothing short of that for Nirandor, and we would hope that you feel the same for your nation.

As for the Elentári, you may inform her that I am the granddaughter of Celebrimbor, son of Curufin. As you know, Curufin was the direct descendant and son of Fëanor. In return, I am interested in hearing what branch of the family that Lady Sirithil is from, if it is likewise not too personal of a question.

With gratitude and respect,

Kementári Cárien

OOC Note: Ëtaros is the first son of Celebrimor, while his younger brother (deceased) is the father of Cárien. She was the next rightful heir to the throne in the old Erasat, due to the son of Ëtaros turning out to be quite evil and err..dead. So there's the relationship to Ëtaros with regard to her, as well as some of the background for her distaste of the 'filthy' in her homeland.

“Delta V at four hundred thousand and increasing, all gravitic drives operating at maximal efficiency. Power core production at thirty percent and steady. Stabilising array operative, inertial mass manipulation online. Delta V increasing in correspondence, now at six hundred thousand…”

Normally, a Menelmacari warship would not have such extensive details of its engine functions being read out during flight, however, the MIV Egalmoth was new. It was in fact, the newest vessel in the fleet, a product of new breakthroughs in accelerative engineering and the science behind it that allowed it to change its velocity using its main drives at more than ten times that of even the Thoron mark thirty four fighters it carried, although there was a new mark thirty five design being tested that could keep up, it would be some weeks yet before it was ready for initial production.

It was a destroyer, intended as a replacement for part of the fleet of aging Gilthoniel class ships, although it was unlikely to make them obsolete entirely, as the Gilthoniel had long been proving its durability as a basic design. The first of the ships in that class, the Elentári’s personal transport, was like the proverbial axe that had five different handles and six heads – almost everything, even her hull and spaceframe, had been replaced several times.

Aboard her bridge, ‘prince’ Celebrimbor, the Menelmacari Prefect of Science and Education – one could gain some insight into where the government’s priorities lay in that the two were combined under a single office – watched the two helmsquendur controlling the large vessel. Large only because it was too small to be classified as ‘huge’ ‘massive’ or ‘colossal’ – although it was more voluminous than its predecessor, its dimensions were not much greater, it was slightly wider, but less high, and had the same overall length.

Her captain, Ciryataran Herenyaelda, leaned forwards in his chair at the front of the bridge, leaning on one of his armrests as he did so, “My lord, perhaps you would prefer to see the weapons test from the observation deck, It will probably look more impressive from there…”

Celebrimbor nodded, “Very well,” he said, walking slowly towards the side of the bridge, his walking accompanied by the tap of the cane he still walked with, out of habit rather than necessity, now, though the present one was a rather powerful magical device (which just goes to show, beating someone within an inch of their life does not correct their behaviour).

The Egalmoth’s observation deck was also its main recreational facility, a multi-purpose room filled with all kinds of living, flowering things, and even a small contingent of songbirds, with both fore and aft windows of apparently transparent metal, meters thick, that slanted with the exterior hull. Standing before them, the captain and prefect could see the distant orb of the hot, blue sun, one of many in the Arches Cluster – the area of the galaxy now used for the shakedown cruises of the MIDF’s warships, twenty five thousand light-years from Sol.

“It is indeed an impressive area,” he said, the light streaming in from the densest star cluster in the galaxy cast dozens of long shadows, the bright stars visible from the window were far brighter than anything that could be seen from the Earth. “Will we be coming within visual range?” he asked.

“Momentarily,” Herenyaelda said, “Ah, there it is,” he said, pointing to a large asteroid becoming visible as the ship decelerated, “We should come to a halt seventeen hundred meters from it. The target is a rocky sphere fifty kilometres across. Our initial shot should smash it into fragments, the largest of which will be used as targets for the other guns.”

“Very good Ciryaaran, you may commence at will.”

The captain nodded, and touched his wrist, “Fire.”

The gap between the dual prows of the ship’s forward section was illuminated by a brilliant lance of whiteness that speared out into the asteroid, impacting against it, causing shockwaves to ripple across it as it broke up into fragments. “Magnify…” the captain added, bringing the expanding debris field ten times closer. More bolts – beams at this range, shot forwards and impacted the closest pieces of debris.

“Heru, Ciryaaran,” a junior officer said, stepping to the captain’s shoulder, “We have received a priority message, from the Elentári, for her grandson.”

“Really?” Celebrimbor asked, “Very strange…”


Moments later, he sat down at one of the tables on the observation deck and took a small pearl from his pocket, setting it on the table. He grimaced with annoyance as a decryption screen appeared, and waved his hand over the pearl to confirm his identity to its sensors.

A flat display of text materialised, stylised brush-stroke characters of his grandfather’s design hovering in midair. “Well,” he whispered to himself at last, “this is a surprise. Ciryaran!” he said, rising, letting the marble’s display fade, reaching back towards it, causing the little object to leap into his hand as he walked, “I am requisitioning your ship. Prepare to return to Sol. Set course for the Nirandor islands, standard orbital approach.”

“But the weapons test?” he asked.

“It can wait,” Celebrimbor said, “I will be in the guest quarters. Page me when we arrive.”


The Egalmoth snapped into being over Nirandor, and banked, accelerating at a mere fraction of the speed it was capable of – the new generation of Menelmacari drive systems were after all, a secret, and it wasn’t conducive to secrecy to display one’s secrets openly. It sent a fairly simple message, requesting an audience with the Kementári, on behalf of the Elentári of Menelmacar…