“My story, you ask?" he chuckles lightly at the notion. "You want you know my story?" he asks. The Elda is garbed in thick leathers that sits comfortably on his frame. He wears his smile easy and free to give. In his eyes you can see the age of years drawn past, but yet, yet still young in the counting for one of the Children of Illuvatar.
The fire cackle disturbs the stillness.The bright flames burns hungrily from the dried logs. It has become easier to make camp for a while now since summer arrived. Behind him the inky darkness shrouds the rest of the night sounds like a blanket of sorrow. With lament the wolves cry out in the distance, close by leaves rustle across the grass and stone. From just behind the veil of deeper darkness, shadow chases shadow. The Elda looks down at the man "I don't even know you" he smiles weakly. Their eyes meet, each one never to have seen other, and less more expects to see him again.
The Elda sits down next to the stranger as each of them studies the logs slowly disintegrate. "It all started a long time ago" he says leaning forward on his knees. "My Grandfather was at the side of Elwe. He stayed by his leaders side from when their marched East began. He was born in the early years of the world, by the hand of Illuvatar himself and I am his grandson” The Elda takes a stick from the ground and moves back a half burned log that has rolled aside.
"The heir to his oath" he says returning to his past posture, elbows resting on his knees "I am sworn to protect my people till the last of our days. For that was his oath. When they all thought that their brothers has forsaken them. When the pains of sorrow burdened them in love for their leader. When in their hearts they could feel the curse of time. He knew of the anguish of loss. Then when Elve re-immersed from Nan Elnath with Mellan that fateful day. He swore to his leader and to his people that his family would be for always at his their side for ages uncounted. That in the eons that may come and go. Even when the leaves on this shore turns pale. His house would forever stay by the side of those that lingers on in these lands. And not for once desert them to the fates of this world. For he has felt the loss of hope. He has tasted the bitter drops of doubt, himself.
The young Elda turns his head towards the stranger "I bore you, I'm sorry" then gives a slight knowing smile as he sees the man lying asleep with his head upon his pack. "You know, the only reason that I was telling you this was because I didn’t know you" he gives a silent snort of laughter "But asleep, it's seems even better" he says facing the fire again. “My grandfather, when himself and the rest of the First Born was settled in the Grey Havens. In those years he took fancy in a lady of the court. Celena, her name was. The most beautiful creature to walk the earth. Her hair, they say" the Elda smiles “Her hair was the color of gold. Not even the fresh green of the morning’s dew on all the leaves could match the shade of her eyes. The life that shines through them was of the purest joy.”
The Elda now looks behind him once again as to share with the sleeping stranger a deeper joy. Seeing the man’s head still slumped on the soft leathers of his bag, slumbering, he turns back with a half disappointed, yet understanding smile to the flames, continuing his tale. “Within their eyes shown the flames of love... Not many years from then my father was born, Aranathal was his name. He was then brought up with the people of Mithlond and peacefully helped in creating the ships that their people needed, many a night he would tin and toil over some design. My grandfather, having been kept away so long from his hearts desire to rest, was now free to join all those he so loved. Celena his love being among those that past this world not by the ships that bore the others. She speaks now with the ever wise Mandos in his halls”
The Eldar gives a sigh of regret “I still don’t know what happened to Celena that she would have been stolen so heart wretchedly away from him. What I do know is that he lived alone in the white marvels of our walls in solitude after his love left him"
Lifting himself slightly from his perch he bends forward to push back some stray, smoking log back into the dying flames.“After my grandfather departure to Eldamar my father now carried the burden of our family. As time passes his eyes falls on the sweet lady Mithorwen. The years that they spend in Mithlond was in gentle quiet. In that time they had a little boy. They called the babe Seargildin. Meaning bitter silver spark in our tongue. For Aranathal knew of the oath that he is born into and what burden he himself feels in the dead of night. He knew that he would have to leave his son to carry on the oath. In peace they live till one day the sorrow struck Mithorwen learned of her fathers death. Her love for her mother was calling her so strongly to comfort her grieving heart. The ache that she felt for her mother's stricken sorrow was a greater hurt then her own. She would think that her mother would now travel to Edamar. If she was, Mithorwen wanted to be by her side” the light of the fire has died, only the faintly glowing embers smolders to a gradually to it’s death..
The Elda’s eyes seems far off, staring into the mist of time. He speaks now solemnly to himself. His voice low and tinted with a longing while he continues the tale "And so they left me. For what reason I don't know.” he says and keeps quiet for period of them before he looks up at the man again “Well, that was my story" he says “I came to Bree to look into the recent threats that we have been hear talks about, of the increase in Orcish activity along the East road, of Angmar's forces” he says the last words towards the flame, as dregs of his tale disappear into the black emptiness of the night. His words traveling only a few meters before the deafening stillness echoes into the layers of sound that now overtakes the camp.
Seargildin stands up. His leathers dark against the light of the fire. He looks once more to the prone man. “Sleep well, my friend” he says before he bends down to lie, himself, down against the bark of the nearby tree. His eyes still open.
