You have asked for the tales of our names, here is my tale.
After the Sundering and the taking of many paths, when even our friend Orome seemed to have abandoned us, the Hunter and his Orc companions befouled our lives ever the more. Many of our kindred vanished; many more were harmed in body, or worse, in spirit by these foes. Though those harmed recovered, they never forgot. The stars still shone and the Star-Kindler was still revered, but some began to speak against the Valar.
A leader of these speakers was ‘Delights-In-Dancing’ who ever reminded us of our plight: “What of the words of Orome that he would ever be our friend? What of his promise of help? Our beloved kindred may have followed to lands bright and new, our lands are dark and haunted. Starlight we have and Orcs. Plenty to eat and the Hunter takes us. Are we his food? What do the Valar care of us, what happens to us? Only the ones who obeyed the demand to leave these lands have helped. Nothing comes from the West to aid us.”
At the height of ‘Delights-In-Dancing’, his speaking against the Powers, came the strongest of the Orc attacks against us. A foodgathering party spotted a large group of them, more than we could fight in the open. The Orcs split into groups, attempting to encircle our village. We left some in the village to decoy; the rest took to the trees. Our speaker-to-the-small-winged asked the yellow-banded ones for aid and they offered it. We concentrated on one group of Orc somewhat separated from the others by a hill. As they hid behind the hill waiting for the signal to attack the yellow-banded, those you call Bees, attacked them. Then we released arrows at them. Our kindred in the village took to the trees and began a battle-song in a debased jargon the Orc could understand.
Dirty old Orces running round the trees,
Fangs to they chinses, hands down to they knees.
Eyes so runty none of them sees
Elves in the hiveses stirring up the Bees.
O la la la la De le le le lay
Orcs so ugly they bites and spits
Covered with fleas what eats they zits.
Throw a rock, shoot bow, never hits
Runs into trees, falls down, throws fits.
O La la la la De le le le lay
Ump didilly ya-ha woo ye yea
The song did as intended; it made the Orcs mad, so mad they did not know what they did. Not only the description was inciting, Ump dididlly ya-ha seemed a very great insult to them.
The group of Orc did as we expected. They charged over the hill right at the nearest enemy they could find: another group of Orc. The second group fought back against the attack of the first and called to another group for help. Gradually, all the Orc began fighting each other.
We thanked the yellow-banded-wined-ones for their aid. As we waited in the trees for the Orc hoard to destroy it self, some on the edge of our group saw a larger group of Orc approaching. Below us were the sounds of club and whip as some ruling clan tried to bring order to the Orc-fight. Of a sudden The Hunter appeared at the head of the Orc, or so was said. We readied for desperate defense. “Delights-In-Dancing’ was with us and shouted:
“Aye Valar, will you not help us now?”
At that moment Light came from the West! Not small light as even the brightest star or flickering light as from fire. Clear, undiluted light. All about us was revealed. All the strength of the trees. All the beauty of the plants. All the majesty of the animals. All the ugliness of the Orc. All the terribleness of the Hunter. Trees stood taller. Plants bloomed. The animals stood in fright. Orcs screamed. The Hunter howled in pain. As the Hunter and Orc bands facing us ran, I fell out of the tree in awe of the light from the west. My companions told me when they joined me I was fey and spoke with Voice of Foresight.
“My kindred the Valar have answered ‘Delights-In-Dancing”! Behold! From the West comes the light that drives away our foes and strengthens our friends. Celebrate this new light. Love it as a gift to us.” And I led the dancing and making of song for this light we called Moon.
From this comes my name: ‘Behold-And-Love-The-Moon’.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.