Old Urnu was walking barefeet on the hard stones, he did not feel their angles, having walked like that all his life... all his lives, say the superstitious people. No one indeed remember Old Urnu else than... old...
Urnu the old crazy ermit...
Whatever the gossips, Old Urnu was walking this night in the wilderness of the Lone Lands, just like every nights, walking and thinking about philosophic questions, always the same questions : will the races of Middle Earth become one day a bit wiser, and if yes, how ?
This night the moon was absent, and though is was not so dark, as the sky, free of clouds, was adorned with thousands and thousands of stars, like if they were all coming for a ball, wearing their brightest outfits...
Old Urnu was too busy thinking to watch the stars, and when he was thinking, old Urnu was looking down, just like to ask the very base of the things... the foundations...
That's how he could avoid at the last moment to step on... on... what is that ??
A baby !?
Old Urnu crouched down to examine the poor thing : a newborn... naked... covered with blood... a baby human, here, in the middle of nowhere, on a stone, with the stars only to rock him, or her... but wait no... this is not a human baby... the ears... this is an elven baby even !
And the little being was alive... it was not moving, not crying, barely breathing... the nights are cold in the Lone lands...
Old Urnu took his old robe off, and wrapped the poor baby in it. Then, naked, he hurried to his camp, carrying in his old arms this little candle of life about to go out...
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The child was writing in the dust with his finger, as they were doing so often, both by pleasure and by necessity :
"Father Urnu ?
- yes ?
- why do people fight each others ? and why do they kill the animals ? can't they eat plants, just like us ?
- Because they have so much violence in them, i think...
- Where does this violence come from ?
- From that we are part of the nature, and the nature is violent, i think...
- But why are we less violent ? We just fight to defend our lives, when we have no other choice...
- maybe because they are too busy running permanantly, they don't ask themselves why they do this or that, they just run... and us, well, we take the time to think, i think..."
It has rained during the night, and nothing is left of this silent conversation in the sand.
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Old Urnu was watching the young one packing his meagre possessions, for most presents from the rangers, who were regulary visiting them, to share a meal and the last news from the wastelands. A yound adult, now..., these wonderful years, together, a drop in his potential eternity... or a life which could end at the next danger...
Yes Old Urnu was worried, and sad, but the young one was free, as he always had been, and Old Urnu had no right to forbid him to go...
He was still watching the sentence in the dust :
"I will go and see how it looks, Imladris, and the elves you were so often telling me about, Father Urnu. Then i will come back"
As simply as that...
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Paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper paper...... what a wonderful invention ! Since they have given me some paper, i can write without losing my words... How often i wanted to keep our conversations, Father ....
I have watched them... they write on paper then some people ride to bring the paper to someone else, far away... so they can have conversations even if they are not together !
My dear Father Urnu, i miss you so much, i would need you so much at my side here, in this... other world... i'm so lost, and though i wish to stay, for there is so much to study here... i won't stay forever, i want to come back and stay with you, to share my discoveries... we will have fun, you and me... and i will bring some paper, a lot of paper !
Oh, and i have choosen me a name... i've realized that here, i would really need one, it's convenient when you live among so many people... It's curious, but it took me only a few seconds to choose.... Tinuchen... the stars, a child... just like when you have found me, and saved me...
They have asked a lady to watch over me. Her name is Reiven. I like her, even if i feel that we have difficulties to communicate and understand each other. Yes we are different, and i like it. I won't become like them, i won't stay as i am, i will become me.
I wish to make Reiven smile more often, she seems sad, but i don't really know how to pass her fences. For the first time in my life i wish i could speak... hmm, but i'd better to find the right words, before... I feel that speaking is even more dangerous than writing...
I love you Father, take good care of you until i come back
with a lot of paper !
Tinuchen