The Tale of Andanya
Part I: Teachings of the Balance
"And that, my children, is how The Maker completed the tapestry." This morning's teacher was Andanya, a willowy woman; tall, graceful and pale as all the fair elves of Landeral, but dark-eyed in contrast to those of the Keani bloodline.
"But what happened to Felisar?" asked Orindil, one of the youngest children of the class, and brown-eyed like his mother.
Andanya's brow furrowed as she replied. "Felisar's tale is long and dark," she said. "When he turned from the task that the Maker had given him, his first thought was to create a tapestry of his own. For, being the first Weaver, his joy had come from the work of the loom. But quickly he found himself in need of Elements, the very thread with which the Tapestry is made. And, being unable to create these for himself, he sought to turn the Elharu, the keepers of the Elements, to his will. But the Elharu were true to the Maker and would not turn.
"Felisar then turned to the Elnar, the children of the Elharu, and filled their minds with promises of power and joy. Some of the Elnar turned then, and were lost. But even then, Felisar was unable to create a tapestry of his own, for the Elnar were not able to create the elements but could only mimic the threads their parents had created.
"At last, Felisar began to realize his folly," Andanya continued, standing and gazing out the classroom's tall window at the surrounding forest. "He saw that, by his own power, and even by the Elharu, he would never be able to create a tapestry like that of the Maker.
"His despair quickly turned to jealousy and rage, and, since that time, always he has sought to corrupt and taint the Tapestry of the Maker. He would undo the weaving, tear apart the very fabric that once his hands constructed, if he had the power."
"Can he do that?" asked Audiril, another child, blue-eyed like his father, the king of Landeral.
"No hand but the Maker's can unmake what the Maker has set in place," Andanya replied. "Take comfort in that, dear children, for that is a hope to which we can always cling."
"But what does he do, then?" Audiril persisted.
"He cannot destroy," Andanya answered, "but he can taint and corrupt. As he filled the minds of the fallen Elnar with greed and hatred, so he turns the minds of all living creatures against their Maker. He tempts the powerful with greater power, and the wise with transcendent wisdom. He preys on the fears of one race and so turns it against the others. If an eye perceives a thing of beauty, he whispers to the mind, Take it for your own. He can create nothing, either good or evil, on his own, but he can cause the heart to desire a good thing so greatly as to turn the heart to evil."
She turned now and faced the children again, and her eyes were clear and sharp. "Therein lies the danger, children," she said. "For all that the Maker created in the Tapestry was good, and all the paths he laid are straight and true. But the fallen ones will always be tempting you strike out on your own." She paused and looked out the window again, and it seemed that she gazed beyond the treetops, beyond the Mountain of Light, beyond the edge of the known world.
A booming male voice broke the moment of tense silence. "Daydreaming again, dear Priestess?"
Andanya and the children turned to the brightly robed elf in the doorway. His beaming smile was contagious. "Perhaps us old folk ought to be the ones assigned to morning lessons," he continued, as he stepped into the room and leaned dramatically on his wooden staff. Despite his words, he appeared barely older than Andanya, with only a few wrinkles around his mouth and eyes giving away the truth of his thousands of years of life.
"Ah, Tornagan, perhaps in these days you would make the better teacher," Andanya agreed, smiling also. "It seems my thoughts stray always to the darkness of these days and not to stability of the mountains that weather all ages."
Tornagan nodded gravely, but not without a twinkle in his eye. "But one should not expect a Priestess of the Balance to root herself always in the most dependable of the Elements." Here he winked at the children, and several of them giggled.
Andanya laughed as well and then let out a quiet sigh. "I have burdened the hearts of children too greatly this morning," she said. "That is all for serious lessons today!"
The elven children cheered and scampered past Tornagan to freedom, while Andanya straightened up the classroom behind them. After a moment of bustling, she turned and met the old priest's steady gaze.
"You are waiting for me to tell you what I am thinking," she observed. "But I think you already know what is on my mind."
"Sometimes a person can think something without knowing that they are thinking it," he replied, with a cryptic smile. "I cannot tell a person what I see in her mind; I must wait for her to discover it on her own. Otherwise, she might not understand it."
"But, can you not at least point out the direction in which a person must think, if she is ever to know what to do?" Andanya asked, and now she was no longer smiling.
Tornagan laughed, and answered, "The Priest of the Mountain would tell you to find a place of solitude and reflect on what is foremost in your mind for a year and a day. If no path has fallen at your feet by that time, then you are to simply sit still until the storm passes from your mind."
Then he turned to her and laid a gentle hand on her arm. "But I know the Priestess of the Balance cannot take this advice." He frowned thoughtfully for a moment. "I do not know that anyone can advise you in these matters, my friend. The races are scattered; the Balance, unguarded, may break at any moment. That is what weighs so heavily on your heart. But alone, we elves can do nothing to restore the world. And the wrath of Men has struck fear into the races so that we cannot seek each other for guidance."
Andanya nodded. "Our wisdom fades," she said, "while the followers of Felisar increase."
