The Seer of Mirror Springs
The storytellers of the Great Forest of the North and foreboding parents alike tell a tale of a young wood elven woman, many moons ago, whose beauty was unmatched. She was short and strong, with fair bronzed skin and long orange hair. Those who gazed upon her remarked that it seemed to flow like molten copper in the rays of the sun. Her name was Aramara. She was the object of jealousy for elven women in circles near and far, and word spread quickly. Many admirers came from miles around, eventually from more and more distant lands to attempt to seduce her with gifts, love ballads, and other tokens of affection.
However, this young maiden's beauty was like the sweet scent of a pitcher plant; as the old wood elven saying goes, "the bird of most brilliant feathers croons the most awfully". Her temperament was wicked, and she had an envious hole in her heart that ran deeper than the darkest reaches of the underworld. Every admirer she met was greeted by sourness and annoyance at best, insults and violence at worst. The quest became ever more fervent to thaw her icy heart.
Every spring season after the first wild lilies bloom, the wood elven circle of Thiilii holds a ceremony known as the Rite of the Green Circlet. It is a competition of sorts, in which compete elven maidens young and old to prove which among them is the fairest of them all. Aramara had been competing in this rite for years, and she was now a wood elf of decent age. Her beauty had only grown with the years, and she was without any doubt the most captivating of all who competed. She presented herself in a gilded dress that was given to her by an admirer (whom she had shunned, of course), and the audience and judging council were agape at her perfection. She was certain that the competition was won, that the Green Circlet of the Thiilii was hers for the taking.
However, she figured in haste; there were yet many competitors, and one especially stood out. The final competitor was a wood elf of incredible age, so much that her form had turned decrepit and nigh deformed. She sat upon a plain wooden stool, stretched her hunched form and cleared her throat. She opened her mouth and forth sprang the most sorrowful and beautiful melody that ears had ever heard. All who followed the weaving strains of her aged voice, which seemed to weep a thousand tears for every pain suffered, were moved to weep along with them. All but one; Aramara, who looked on with burning resentment. She was certain now that she had lost.
The sun was low in the sky, and the council of judges had retired for the night to render their verdict. The onlookers and competitors had all laid to rest for the night, but Aramara lay awake, seething with contempt for the victory that was until just moments ago so clear. Some say that it was the darkness already within that moved her to act as she would, others claim it was the mournful influence of the dark star Beshal. What is known, however, is that in her anger and envy, she went to the place where her rival slept, and strangled her to death with her locks copper hair.
It was not until morning that anyone realized what she had done, and her punishment was swift and decisive; her hair was to be charred black with tar, forever revoking the beauty she had so abused, and she was to be imprisoned in the Mirror Springs for the rest of her days. Some say that Aramara's spirit haunts the still waters of the spring, the air that was once pure and refreshing now as cold and uninviting as she was in life.
She does, in fact, reside there, as a banshee who rages against those who have so cursed her. She cannot bare to perceive her now horrific form, and thus shades her eyes behind her tangle of dark black hair to stop her from seeing her reflection in the numerous crystal-clear springs of her prison. In an ironic twist, her curse has also granted her incredible powers of sight. She can find things that others wish to hide, the true identity of people who wish to remain unknown, or the location items thought lost forever. She does not offer this power to others often, just as she was scarce to show any care for others while she still drew breath. However, she is still fond of any items that remind her of the form she has lost. Fine combs, in particular, may cause her stony heart to crack if but for a time. Perhaps, if one were to win a Green Circlet from the spring ceremony, she would be actualized from the crimes she committed, and her spirit may yet find peace...
Summary
The outline of the tale is mainly a set of morale lessons that wood elves aspire to teach; vanity and jealousy will not go unpunished, and appearances cannot always be trusted.
The key components, shared by each variation, are that of Aramara's beauty, her envy, and her curse. Regardless of how each variation expresses them, they remain constant in any retelling.
Historical Basis
The myth is indeed rooted in true events, and evidence of its transpiring exists mainly in Aramara's spirit lingering in the Mirror Springs. There are as well accounts from admirers ages past of their attempts to win her heart, such as a dwarven painter who sought to get just a glimpse of her beauty. He hid in the brush nearby as Aramara was singing to herself. However, he was discovered, and in retaliation, Aramara gouged out his eyes. However, he had seen enough; using molten metal and a brush of his own beard hair, he made a painting of her, even more beautiful than she herself. Her trademark hair was painted with copper, her skin with silver and gold.
Spread
The roaming wood elf storytellers from the Great Forest have spread the myth all throughout the forest itself, as well as the bordering states. Many of the people of Albridge's Sovereignty, the Republic of Orshka, and Tacedon have heard the story told, even just in passing. Many others have heard it retold form those who heard it from the elves.
Variations & Mutation
The primary variation comes in whether or not Aramara truly took the life of her competitor. In some versions, she recognized her defeat and fled into reclusion in the Mirror Springs where she could forever be surrounded by only her own appearance, and the stars above cursed her with her now horrific form. In some versions, she not only slew her primary rival whose song swept the judges away, but all others who took part in the competition who she felt had outdone her. Such variation was the byproduct of the wood elves' oral recounting, word of mouth spread through the lands of man, and the amount of time that has passed since its origin.
Cultural Reception
To the wood elves, it is an important moral lesson and a deep warning. It is a reminder that they who can command such awe must be careful how they use their power, to not let it cloud their eyes with malice or avarice. They focus on the piece of the story in which Aramara was alive, not what came after.
To the humans, it is little more than a children's fable, something to keep the children away from the dangerous woodlands and foothills of the North. They focus more on the piece of the story after Aramara's curse was exacted and the horror she has now become.
To the dwarves, very few have heard the story; the wood elves don't travel north very often. Those who have regard it similarly to the humans, as a way to make their young stay in bed for fear of what is outside. Often, however, dwarves favor far grimmer stories, those of hags, orcs, or oni.
In Literature
Due to the wood elves recording events through oral history, not scripture, very little exists that recounts the story in written form. Some collectors of stories have added it to their grand grimoires of tales, but otherwise no written versions exist.
In Art
The wood elves recount this story often, and Aramara or similar vengeful spirits make a debut in the woven tapestries with which they adorn their domiciles and places of worship. There are carvings of such spirits upon tree bark, rocky outcroppings, and near the mouth of caves where such spirits are believed to reside. There are a handful of musical renditions that are performed by travelling wood elf minstrels, and its events are spun into a play by the name of Starlight Tragedy: Lament of the Elven. It was written by a halfling named Bilf the Bombastic. It is a one-act play, with a rather lukewarm reception due to its incredibly gratuitous melodrama.
Date of First Recording
The events transpired in the year 127, the third spring after the end of the War Under the Leaves. It began its retellings as early as the summer and fall of the same year.
Date of Setting
As above, the events took place in the year 127, however the retellings dispute whether they happened at all, or if they occurred during, before, or after the War Under the Leaves.
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