Varllimon places the last few pieces of wood on the fire as he stands up looking at the others.Most of then resting, but here and there an elf was busy preparing the camp. It's been a long day and they must be tired, it will do that to you when no sleep is gained in the few days that they have been traveling from the east. It has been a long and hard day indeed. For the last couple of months they have been looking for him. What has become of their leader? And now that they arrived at the western shores?
For now Cirdan has gained much popularity with the others and himself. He seems to have the spirit of one suited for such a purpose. I have seen the light that burns deep in his eyes my self, the love and conviction for his friend is only shared with few. For a conviction such as his, one needs to find in ones own heart the love for your brothers as seldom felt. For now he is pleased to have Cirdan by their side.
Some say that Elwe has deserted them while others argue for his loyalty to them... Personally he doesn't think that his lord would ever leave without them. They have been following him since his return from Valinor. The other elves has left them, all but giving up hope for his eventual return. Their own brothers, its them that has in actual fact deserted him, and those that wished and prayed for his safety. I my self one of them that send up prayers up to Illuvattar.
And now, after centuries of search, after all their kin has left them, still they look, still they hope.
But allas the night grows dark, many of the others are losing just that hope that was keeping them here. For even some have been cursing, and that includes himself, the other elves that left, him, them to toil in these lands, in search of what may never be found.
Shaking his head Varllimon picks up an old weather beetin lute, in the light of the fire there the craftsmanship is not so apparent but in hearing the sound of pure drifting notes it become clear that this must be an instrument created by the hands of a skilled artist.
Before he sits he arranges some of the blankets and pillows that has been thrown next of the fire, finding a comfortable soft rolled up blanket to rest and starts to play a ancient song, a song sang before the lights of Vallinor was stolen, before the Silmarils was created and Finwe killed by Morgoth, even before then. When there was only night, the stars and the land. When elves where still young to this world. He sang a song about the birth of the firstborn.
About the Awakening.
They shall not know
What I have done
I must hide you
My beloved one
From my heart
The painful desire
From my hands
The grand design
From my soul
The life and the fire
Into your flawless eyes
Come to me my child
Come to me the first born
My work is done
Come to me my child
Come to me my first born
Learn and blaze from me
Live from me my son
Open your eyes
Wonder my world
Breathe and arise
It is your turn
Wake up my child
Cold as a stone
The warmth of life
I shall grant you
