Alfýkin: The Last of the Elves

I Am What I Am

"You weave an in'eresting tale, elf."

"I was not done," Illeandir said. Thrilo raised a meaty hand in apology. "I spent fifteen years amongst them. They taught me their ways and I soon learned the value of a gift of river stones."

"Few ou'side my culture 'ave ever learned their worth," Thrilo said. "And if them stones you speak of are true, then they were no ordinary river stone bu' rare gems the river washed from deep inside moun'ains. Polished smooth over hundreds, maybe thousands, of years. May I see one?"

Illeandir shook his head. "They are with my belongings Ithilwen carries."

"Ah," Thrilo said. Illeandir suddenly remembered his dream with a small green stone plummeting into black depths. Lost in thought he slowly picked apart the rabbit leg, now cold, in his hand. Thrilo was munching steadily at what remained of the rabbit. When he finished eating he kicked dirt over the fire and stood up. He began stomping the earth flat with his iron boots.

"Where be we meetin' this elf lass?" Thrilo asked. Illeandir looked up from his shredded meal.

"The river," he said and moved to sit up but when he put his weight on his arm it gave out and he fell back down.

"That's going to be a problem," Illeandir muttered to himself as he stood again, this time avoiding using his injured arm at all. Thrilo was already heading, in the wrong direction, to the river. "Master Dwarf!" Illeandir called. Thrilo paused and turned around. "The river is to the East." Thrilo scowled and stomped over to Illeandir, who was laughing quietly.

"Real funny, elf, real funny."

Without another word they walked toward the sound of the river. Illeandir half expected to see Ithilwen sitting there waiting for them but knew she wouldn't be. He was not surprised when she was not there.

"Now wha'?" Thrilo asked. Illeandir pointed north.

"We follow the river until we reach Osgiliath."

"Are ya mad?" Thrilo exclaimed. "They want ya dead an' yer going to walk smiling into their arms?"

"I did not say I would be smiling," Illeandir said. Thrilo huffed and muttered into his beard. "I can hear you."

"Bloody elves and their bloody ears!" Thrilo groaned in dwarvish.

"I can understand every word you say," Illeandir replied likewise. Thrilo clamped his mouth shut. "We will not have to come near the city," Illeandir said. "Ithilwen will meet us along the river." He hoped. "Do you have a weapon?" Thrilo nodded, fingering the broad axe hanging from his belt gently.

"Why would I need it if we ain't entering the city?"

"Always expect the unexpected. Then you will not be surprised."

"I suppose yer goin' to tell me that's why yer still alive," Thrilo said grumpily.

"Do you want me to?" Illeandir asked as he began walking upriver.

"No."

"Then I won't."

"Good," Thrilo said. Illeandir laughed and the dwarf found himself smiling as well. There was something infectious about the elf's laugh. It was warm and full, like the bells of Dale when they rang a greeting to every morning. A sudden wave of homesickness washed over him. He missed his home. He missed the feel of living stone all around him and the constant pounding of miners at work. But most of all he missed his brother and the countless hours they spent side by side in the forges crafting whatever caught their fancy. He was so deep in thought he almost missed Illeandir's question.

"How long have you been away from Erebor?"

"How do ya know I be from Erebor?"

"Most dwarves are. And I know the faces of every dwarf in the Iron Hills. I did not recognize you."

"Ah..." This elf was smart. "I been away too long now."

"Why not go back?" Illeandir brushed his hand against the bark of a tree. Thrilo shrugged.

"I can't."

"You cannot?" Illeandir asked carefully.

"A dwarf takes a little extra pay fer himself, right? No biggie. Jus' enough to make things more comfortable fer his family. But then he gets greedy an' soon someone notices. He don't want to get caught so what's he do? He bloody goes and blames the next dwarf!" Thrilo shouted. His face was red and angry and his fists clenched tightly. "I didn't do nothin' wrong! Jus' me and my brother trying to keep our sister fed and happy. Ain't no Ma. No Da. Da died in the war and Ma got sick. Jus' me and Throlo and little Gis. Tha' little stone rat, Dorth, blamed me fer taking extra gold. Next thing I know I'm sitting outside wi' nothin' but my tools and a few gold coins to keep me from starvin'. Very near got hung fer them thinking I stole the Arkenstone."

"The Arkenstone?" Illeandir said. Thrilo clapped his hand over his mouth.

"I said too much," he said. Illeandir filed away that information until a later time. "I've been wanderin' around fer the last three months trying to make a living. Got pretty good at it but now I ain't got my tools anymore." He glared at Illeandir, who shrugged. "I be going back to get 'em as soon as things calm down a bit."

There was a long pause where the only sounds where the leaves crunching under Thrilo's boots. Illeandir was busy scanning the forest when Thrilo's question made him jump.

"You got a Ma an' Da?" he asked.

"I never knew them," Illeandir said.

"Oh, did no' mean to pry," Thrilo apologized. Illeandir smiled.

"You have done nothing wrong, Master Dwarf. I was raised by a senile old elf by the name of Cúnor in the deeper parts of Eryn Lasgalen." Cúnor was far from senile but he was old, very old. He had lived in Eryn Lasgalen for thousands of years and had known Oropher when the old king had been young and Thranduil yet unborn. His knowledge of the world had been vast, if a little outdated, but great nonetheless. It was from him Illeandir had learned an ancient fighting style none but the elven warriors of old knew how to defend against, and there were few of them left.

"He teach ya to figh'?" Thrilo asked. Illeandir, still deep in thought, nodded once. He vaguely wondered if his mentor was still tending to the flowers and thick vines that grew outside the little hut. "I ain't sparred against an elf before," Thrilo said hopefully. Illeandir broke from his musing and looked at the dwarf with a faint mocking smile on his face.

"It is not something many wish for, Master Dwarf, even other elves," he said. But Thrilo would not be brought down so easily. He squared his shoulders and looked haughtily up at Illeandir.

"Well, I be wishin' to. It be somethin' I'd ne'er forge'."

"And perhaps a lesson you would not forget either, dwarf. I am not a man, willing to fight everything I lay eyes, nor am I a dwarf trying to prove himself to the Big Folk. I am what I am and unless you feel I have something to offer you, besides to say you fought an elf, I will not spar," Illeandir said. His tone indicated the end of conversation. Thrilo fumed as he walked behind the elf trying to think of an excuse to spar with the elf, or rile him. He did not think the latter would be effective.

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I tried so hard to get this up on Monday but I kept getting interrupted and had so many things going on the last few days! I'm so sorry. I tried.