Taelin's Story

Author's Note: Please Review! *begs*

~~~***~~~

Slow mist rolled in from the woods as Taelin woke that morn. Slowly he rose to his feet, and gathered his cloak. With a heavy heart, the elf left the cottage and walked slowly through the rolling fog to the stables. Gathering an axe, he set about his task.

As his axe split into the first tree, Taelin’s thoughts raced with images and memories of the old man. Taelin remembered things that Wess had taught him, things the old man had said and done. Each new image, each new thought brought another swing of his axe.

At last, when the pyre was built, Taelin stepped back. Straightening under the newly risen sun, the elf released a deep sigh. There were no more tears left for him to cry. Deep down, Taelin had loved Wess as a father, and for the second time that love had been taken from him. Steeling his heart, Taelin returned to the little cottage, covered his friend with a blanket and carried his now cold body out and laid him upon the funeral pyre.

“Goodbye, mellon nin.” He whispered. “I shall never forget you.” And with that, Taelin then bowed his head and set the pyre ablaze.

~~~***~~~

In the coming days, Taelin grew to loathe the cottage that had once belonged to Wess. Everywhere he turned it reminded him of the old man. In the end, he could no longer bare to remain there. At last, with a heavy heart, only days after Wess’ death, Taelin sold the cottage.

Having nowhere else to go, he rented a room above one of the taverns in the same village. The room was tiny, and contained only a bed and small table, but it was enough for Taelin. Always the smell of stale alcohol, and urine would filter through the floorboards, almost nauseating the poor elf, and yet he stayed.

With time, however, Taelin forgot how strong he could be. In the dank dark of his room, the elf gave in to despair. Soon he refused to leave the room, never seeing the sunshine. It was said that once could stand in the street before the tavern, and hear a ghostly sad song, sung in a soft Elvish whisper.

Eventually, the townsmen learned of the elf above the tavern, and came knocking. They longed to see the owner of the beautiful voice they heard each night. But when no one answered, they grew angry. In their drunken rage, the men burst through the door, only to stop in the doorway once it opened. Lying upon the bed was the most beautiful sight they had yet seen.

Having heard the knock and resounding thud of large bodies connecting with his door, Taelin had given up. He had grown cold inside, and no longer cared what happened to him, or what became of him. He now lay upon the bed, his light cotton shirt the only thing to cover him. Startling green eyes opened slowly and gazed unemotionally at the men in his doorway.

“So, you have come to see the elf, have you?” Taelin whispered, at last as he slowly sat up in the bed. “Did you not wish more of me?” He asked softly, a cold chill in his tone.

One of the more brave men stepped forward and smiled menacingly. A look with which Taelin was long since familiar with. “Sure, elf. I’ll take more.” He said.

Taelin nodded and beckoned the man forwards. With slow, sure steps the man approached, finally kneeling upon the bed. As the man inched towards him, Taelin placed a trembling hand upon the man’s chest to halt his progress.

“Have you money, my lord?”

“Yes.” the man replied.

“Good.” Taelin whispered. “I will take 100 coins. And the rest of you,” He said, addressing those in the doorway. “I will take your money, as well. But you will have to wait your turn.” As the door closed, Taelin was seen slowly removing the filthy shirt that the man before him wore.

~~~***~~~

Long years passed as Taelin continued in such a manner. Each day he would sit by the window and stare out over the green countryside which he used to delight in riding across, and each night he would entertain a new townsman who could afford the price. In these years, however, Taelin began to fade.

No longer did his skin hold a healthy glow, but he grew milky pale. No longer did his eyes shine with elven intelligence, they only gazed half-heartedly at whatever was before him. Not even his voice held the clear tone it once had.

Taelin was slowly dying.

Finally one day, he left his tavern room. The elf descended the stairs, and purchased a horse, climbed into the saddle and rode off. No one knew where he went, or if ever he would return. He had simply left.

Taelin rode hard for as long as he could push his new horse. Finally coming to a forest border, which seemed very familiar. Growing nervous, Taelin closed his eyes and urged the horse forwards.

For four hundred years, he had not set eyes upon this place. In his heart, he feared that he would be turned away. That those who lived within the wood would look upon him with disgust before turning their backs to him. Taelin knew that he would not get far within the border before being stopped, and he was not mistaken.

“Daro!” (Halt!) A clear elven voice shouted. “Man le?” (who are you?)

Taelin swallowed hard, raising his hands in surrender slowly.

“I eneth nin Taelin.” (my name is Taelin) He called back to the voice from above him.

“Man le carel si?” (what are you doing here?) it responded.

In his nervousness, Taelin fell out of Elvish and into the common tongue. “Long ago, there was an elf-maid who lived within these woods. She knew my mother. I wish only to speak with her. Please?”

Silently, a figure slid from the branches above Taelin’s head and landed skillfully before him. The figure was tall, and strong. Wearing a sort of uniform, and with his bow at the ready. His long blond hair tied back in what Taelin recognized as a warriors braids. Taelin’s heart leaping as realization dawned upon him. This was a Galadhrim.

“What is her name?” The elf asked, his common slightly accented.

“Firieth.” Taelin replied.

The elf before him nodded and lowered his bow. “She lives here still, my lord. I will take you to her.” Taelin nodded, sliding from his saddle and leading his horse behind him.

Taelin’s heart broke as he walked further into the woods of Lothlorien. Long had he dreamt of the golden leaves of the mallorn, or the strong Galadhrim of which he had longed to join as a child. The further on that the elf led him, the more Taelin began to recognize from his childhood. The trees soon became familiar, the roots upon the ground like a map through his memories.

At last the elf leading him stopped and turned to face him. “She lives here, my lord.” He said, and pointed to a talan above. With a nod, Taelin thanked his escort, and began climbing the steps to the talan.

His heart fluttered in his chest, as he questioned if he should truly be doing this. It had been so long since he had last seen Firieth, and he wondered if the she-elf would even remember or recognize him. Again his fears of being laughed at and turned away began to build within him. It was enough so that when he stood before her door, he turned to leave once more.

“Who’s there?” A soft melodious elven voice called from within, in their native language.

Taelin then felt trapped. He second-guessed his reasons for coming there, and feared what the elder elf might say or do to him. He could hear her footsteps approaching, and froze in his place, with his back towards her.

“Who are you?” She asked, once more.

Taking a deep breath, Taelin turned around slowly. His green eyes fearful as they slowly rose to meet Firieth’s gaze, at last. The elder elf’s eyes widened in shock as she gasped softly.

“It cannot be.” She whispered, uncertainly. “Taelin? Is that you?”

“Yes, my friend.” He whispered in return, nearly trembling in fear.

”Ai! By Eru, where have you been, penneth?” Firieth cried, as she rushed forwards and wrapped her arms around the young elf, hugging him closely to her.

Taelin stiffened in her embrace at first, but slowly relaxed into it. He had loved this she-elf as a second mother when he was an elfling. To him, it was like coming home. Slowly he slid his arms around her in return, bending down to rest his chin upon her shoulder as he whispered.

“In the darkest places I have ever known…but I’m back now.”

~~~***~~~

For hours, Taelin stayed and spoke with Firieth. He was surprised to have her not turn him away, but open her arms and offer all of the hospitality that she could to him. He told her of his life over the past 400 years, and yet she never blamed him. There was only one thing that he could not bring himself to tell her, however, and that was how he was supporting himself, now. He could not share that shame, or admit to that kind of defeat.

Taelin knew that he could not remain in ‘lorien. No matter how his heart yearned to do so, he would not fit in. He had seen too much evil, had been subjected to it. The golden light of the woods held no power for him any longer, and so it was with a heavy heart that Taelin left Firieth’s talan. Except in his heart, he knew that he would return