1.3 The Reshaping

Now this story speaks of grief, and the ruin of the evergreen emerald world and the humans hold the blame for it.
When the humans grew strong and wise and they were satisfied with what has become of them, they started looking at the skies more often. And there in the sky were the birds, who will seldom take the people and give them a ride over the green woods. The men liked the flying and it was not long before they wished it upon for themselves, to be able to fly without the birds help. Soon the flying turned into their only obsession, an unwilling lust  that entered the hearts of men. Many blossoms of the Nurgulen lit up and faded away, but the desire to fly and to feel free rushing through the air and the clouds, never left them and their binding to the grounds felt heavier with each passing day. Some of the people devised wing like contraptions which would only give them the mere illusion of flight and it would only make the human hearts more emblazoned in their hurtful desire.
And so the people asked the birds how do they fly? And will they teach them? Birds of all families and from every trunk of the world came together and they spent times and times in thought of how they would help their walking friends. Once they finished with their advisement, a bird came to the people and said to them “We are all children of the great Nurgul, it is he who made us what we are and gave us the powers we have, our wings were a gift to us, and what men have as their gift it is only for men to know and to own”.

The men took this advice at ill road and bent it to what they desired. So it was when they turned to the child trees of the Nurgulut. They spent countless songs in front of the trunks, asking and praying relentlessly on their knees for wings to fly, they gave the trees names and made them gods hoping that the father would fulfill their wish and they too will join the birds in their freedom flight. But the trees stood silent and unmoving. And the grief of the humans was great then, so great that it turned into anger and the desire to fly was replaced with the desire for revenge.

So they started burning the trees, and in the fires the world changed.

The evergreen emerald lost the glimmer, dark smokes and clouds covered the skies, stormy winds full of ash were filling the air howling through the helpless trees, and the  mighty roots were awaken. The great Nurgul started to quench in pain  moving the grounds above, raising great mountains with sharp ridges and creating deep chasms and valleys that will later be filled with rain. The ancient roots were torn apart and the child trees now stood alone each for itself whichever survived the flames. The humans sundered among the mountains and the seas now walked alone, for the birds were angry at them for their monstrous wrongdoing and were friends no more. They forsake all of the human kind and vowed never to speak to them or use their tongue, because now it seemed it was vile and filthy and that it only existed to conspire evil deeds.

 

Now whatever was ruined and lost in the chaos of the fire and the great tumults of the earth, the power of the Nurgulut brought it back only stronger and more terrible in temper. Only first the wild fires were concealed beneath the grounds in the great roots, though sometimes the earth would spew rivers of fire to remind the people of what they did. But what was born in the fire was  something that the humans nor the birds could have imagined. The trees in flames unrooted themselves from the ground and grew mighty legs with fierce claws to roam the earth and between their branches skin grew so they could fly and thus the dragons were awakened to be guardians of the forests that remained. And from the ash of the fallen trees grass grew and little shrubs and thorns, flowers and plants with fruit, and new trees that were not as formidable as the first but gracious non the less. Those that remained of the Nurgulut child trees were covered in moss to heal the burned bark. The world was green again, save fор the places where the fire was the hottest, now only dry grounds and hot sands remained like scars for the world.

Everything was at peace again and the world was beautiful once more, though it will forever be sorrowful and the joy from the days when Nisinol, the city of light and song was alive will never be restored.

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