Journeys

***Rían*** · 10-16-2008, 05:13 PM

Mithlond, 1720 S.A.

Tyaron looked out over the sea. His long, dark hair lifted slightly away from his face in the breeze off the quay, the only thing moving around him besides the free-flying birds, the eternally moving water, and an occasional restless gesture of his hands. His deep gray eyes looked steadily across the water, glinting in the rising sun like so many bright memories.

He sighed and looked away, inland towards the settlement. Everything looked normal - yet normal for here, not normal for home.

"Home! Home!" he thought as he rose and started walking, unable to sit any longer. "Why am I still thinking of Gondolin as my home? Home is gone - I must find another home."

"Ata, ata, let us go! Let us go! Why do you tarry?" came the voice of a young child, carried to him on the morning breeze. The child's voice was urgent; obviously full of longing for their intended destination.

"Indeed, why do I tarry? Why should I not go?" came the thought suddenly. It had been stifled for a long time. First out of necessity; the survivors from Gondolin had needed the help of strong men in their first agonizing need, and although he hadn't escaped unscathed, yet he was less hurt than most, and for a long while, his life was one of constant helping of the sick and wounded. But slowly and steadily, the helpers became the helpless, and the wounded grew strong and became the healers in their turn, as the strong inevitably broke under their dual burden of their ceaseless activity and their denied grief.

But the bodies of the Firstborn were strong, and those who lived thought those dark days finally returned to health and vigor. Years passed; the cycles of Arda took their turn in the dance.

And Tyaron still wanted to go home.

He looked out over the water again. He knew his home eventually lay over the sea, and the sea-longing of the elves was in his heart, yet something still kept him on these shores. That something was the reason why he had fought, when it had come to fighting, against the forces that would mar and destroy. He had shed blood and not regretted it. Yet he had always had a feeling, when returning, that he had not yet returned home.

"Indeed, why do you tarry?" came a familiar voice - the voice of his closest friend, who had been watching him for some time.

Tyaron looked up in surprise. He had not heard Alagos' approach.

Alagos watched Tyaron's face with a smile. After all these years, he could read his friend's expressions well. First an impulse to deny his thoughts of leaving, then the realization that his friend would be able to see through this, then finally a resigned smile and his real thoughts.

"I don't know," he said simply.

There was quiet for a few minutes.

"Are you looking for something?" asked Alagos.

"I don't know that, either ... at least, I suppose I am, but I don't know what it is," answered Tyaron with a troubled expression. He glanced over at his friend, and an embarrassed smile spread across his face. Alagos laughed. Tyaron had always been the sure one; the one who saw what he wanted and went straight for it, while chiding Alagos for his uncertainty and his wandering ways, and now the shoe was on the other foot.

"Well!" said Alagos, crossing his arms across his chest and putting on a serious expression. "Perhaps I can help you this time! Let us look around. Are you looking for that?" inquired Alagos, pointing at a stone bench.

"No! I'm looking for a way to make you more serious!" returned Tyaron with a laugh.

"Well, that won't happen anytime soon - better give up on that! Now are you looking for, say ... " Alagos made a show of looking around critically. His gaze fell on a slender tree in the distance, with the sparkling sea in the background. He pointed it out. "How about that tree?"

Tyaron followed his friend's gaze, a witty response at the ready. But as he looked at the tree, the words died on his lips. The golden light of the sunrise on the tree had brought back a memory of golden leaves, and a fountain ...

Alagos looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then looked back at the tree, and fell quiet himself.

"Not that tree ... but maybe ... one like it ..."

10-16-2008, 05:13 PM	#1
*Rían* Half-Elven Princess of Rabbit Trails and Harp-Wielding Administrator (beware the Rubber Chicken of Doom!) Join Date: Sep 2002 Location: Not where I want to be ... Posts: 15,254	Journeys Mithlond, 1720 S.A. Tyaron looked out over the sea. His long, dark hair lifted slightly away from his face in the breeze off the quay, the only thing moving around him besides the free-flying birds, the eternally moving water, and an occasional restless gesture of his hands. His deep gray eyes looked steadily across the water, glinting in the rising sun like so many bright memories. He sighed and looked away, inland towards the settlement. Everything looked normal - yet normal for here, not normal for home. "Home! Home!" he thought as he rose and started walking, unable to sit any longer. "Why am I still thinking of Gondolin as my home? Home is gone - I must find another home." "Ata, ata, let us go! Let us go! Why do you tarry?" came the voice of a young child, carried to him on the morning breeze. The child's voice was urgent; obviously full of longing for their intended destination. "Indeed, why do I tarry? Why should I not go?" came the thought suddenly. It had been stifled for a long time. First out of necessity; the survivors from Gondolin had needed the help of strong men in their first agonizing need, and although he hadn't escaped unscathed, yet he was less hurt than most, and for a long while, his life was one of constant helping of the sick and wounded. But slowly and steadily, the helpers became the helpless, and the wounded grew strong and became the healers in their turn, as the strong inevitably broke under their dual burden of their ceaseless activity and their denied grief. But the bodies of the Firstborn were strong, and those who lived thought those dark days finally returned to health and vigor. Years passed; the cycles of Arda took their turn in the dance. And Tyaron still wanted to go home. He looked out over the water again. He knew his home eventually lay over the sea, and the sea-longing of the elves was in his heart, yet something still kept him on these shores. That something was the reason why he had fought, when it had come to fighting, against the forces that would mar and destroy. He had shed blood and not regretted it. Yet he had always had a feeling, when returning, that he had not yet returned home. "Indeed, why do you tarry?" came a familiar voice - the voice of his closest friend, who had been watching him for some time. Tyaron looked up in surprise. He had not heard Alagos' approach. Alagos watched Tyaron's face with a smile. After all these years, he could read his friend's expressions well. First an impulse to deny his thoughts of leaving, then the realization that his friend would be able to see through this, then finally a resigned smile and his real thoughts. "I don't know," he said simply. There was quiet for a few minutes. "Are you looking for something?" asked Alagos. "I don't know that, either ... at least, I suppose I am, but I don't know what it is," answered Tyaron with a troubled expression. He glanced over at his friend, and an embarrassed smile spread across his face. Alagos laughed. Tyaron had always been the sure one; the one who saw what he wanted and went straight for it, while chiding Alagos for his uncertainty and his wandering ways, and now the shoe was on the other foot. "Well!" said Alagos, crossing his arms across his chest and putting on a serious expression. "Perhaps I can help you this time! Let us look around. Are you looking for that?" inquired Alagos, pointing at a stone bench. "No! I'm looking for a way to make you more serious!" returned Tyaron with a laugh. "Well, that won't happen anytime soon - better give up on that! Now are you looking for, say ... " Alagos made a show of looking around critically. His gaze fell on a slender tree in the distance, with the sparkling sea in the background. He pointed it out. "How about that tree?" Tyaron followed his friend's gaze, a witty response at the ready. But as he looked at the tree, the words died on his lips. The golden light of the sunrise on the tree had brought back a memory of golden leaves, and a fountain ... Alagos looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then looked back at the tree, and fell quiet himself. "Not that tree ... but maybe ... one like it ..." __________________ . I should be doing the laundry, but this is MUCH more fun! Ñá ë?* óú éä ïöü Öñ É Þ ð ß ® ç å ™ æ ♪ ?* "How lovely are Thy dwelling places, O Lord of hosts! ... For a day in Thy courts is better than a thousand outside." (from Psalm 84) * * * God rocks! Entmoot : Veni, vidi, velcro - I came, I saw, I got hooked! Ego numquam pronunciare mendacium, sed ego sum homo indomitus! Run the earth and watch the sky ... Auta i lómë! Aurë entuluva! Last edited by Rían : 11-12-2008 at 07:50 PM.