Alfýkin: The Last of the Elves

Broken Promise: Part One

Growing up on the shores of Mithlond, Ithilwen had little knowledge of the inner workings of trees. She had spent only a few short decades among the magnificent mallorn trees in Lorien before Eldarion with a newborn Nara in his arms found her and brought her back to Minas Tirith.

She could feel the life inside the tree, but what Illeandir meant by awake she did not know. She pulled her hand away, slightly disappointed, but as she did she felt something. Illeandir grinned when she gasped.

"There was a tree much like this one where I grew up. Younger than the rest, but still ancient." Illeandir fell silent, lost in memory.

"It's," Ithilwen searched for the right word to describe what she felt. It was as if she was looking into hundreds of years of knowledge, but unable to see or touch it. Knowledge unfathomable in scope, yet minuscule in detail.

"It's unbelievable," she whispered in awe.

...

That night they camped at the edge if the forest. Illeandir had ventured a little ways into Fangorn and found a small brook. He returned to grab their water skins and left again. Thrilo set up a small fire and was roasted a rabbit he had caught earlier in the day on a spit. While she waited for Illeandir to return, Ithilwen carefully mended his shirt. She had made him leave it behind after discovering a large hole in the side.

Then sun sank slowly, dipping below the horizon shortly before Ithilwen heard Illeandir coming back. He made no effort to be quiet. In fact, he seemed to be making as much noise as possible on purpose. He held the water skins in one hand and in the other were his shoes.

Once he stepped out of the trees, however, he moved silently. He sat just a few feet to Ithilwen's right. Without his shirt numerous silvery scars were visible. She noticed his hair was dripping with water and his cheeks were slightly pink.

"Did you fall in?" Ithilwen teased. Illeandir smiled sheepishly and pushed his hair from his face.

"No," he said timidly. Thrilo cleared his throat loudly.

"Food's done." He handed a portion to each of them and settled next to Illeandir with his own piece of scalding hot rabbit held in his scarred hands. The heat didn't seem to bother him as his struck up a lively debate about the advantages between two very different weapons with Illeandir. Ithilwen forgot the names of the weapons as soon as they were said. Instead she finished Illeandir's shirt and let their debate fade to background noise.

She passed the time trying to pick out the different sounds of the birds singing happily before they retired for the night. She knew the harsh squwak of an angry robin and the softer trill of a tiny yellow finch flitting through the leaves. A family of wrens chirped noisily on a nearby branch. One by one they fell silent as the stars began to blink into existence.

Ithilwen wrapped herself in Illeandir's cloak. Like his shirt she had confiscated it, but not to mend; it was warm during the cool nights. She laid down and slowly drifted off to sleep.

...

They woke to an almighty crash. Thrilo and Illeandir leapt to their feet, weapons in hand and hair disarray. Thrilo still had his cloak over his head as he whipped wildly back and forth. Illeandir grabbed him and lifted the cloth from Thrilo's face. He pointed to where a branch had fallen to the ground.

"I believe they want us to wake up."

Thrilo scoffed and thrust his axe back into his belt. He folded up his cloak and stuffed it into his bag, grumbling all the while. Ithilwen yawned as the last traces of sleep vanished. She squinted at the sun, which was barely a handbreadth above the horizon. She yawned again and stood up.

Thrilo was wringing his hands and shifting his gaze from Ithilwen to Illeandir to the north. He opened his mouth several times and closed it each time. Illeandir kicked the ashes of the fire over, making sure there was nothing left of their fire last night. He finished and glanced at Thrilo.

Thrilo net his eyed and Illeandir nodded solemnly. Thrilo sighed and turned to Ithilwen.

"I won' be going with you."

"Why?" Ithilwen asked. Despite her calm reaction, inside she could not comprehend Thrilo's statement. Thrilo scuffed the toe of his boot along the ground.

"I can't," Thrilo replied sullenly. "I realized back a' the inn tha' I can't go with you all the way." Thrilo stopped for a moment. "I got to go home. Help my brother and look after my sister. We only got each other now. I should have returned as soon as the ban lifted. I know tha' now. I gotta stop runnin'."

Ithilwen stood and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"You're a good dwarf, Thrilo. No matter what they may say. I am honored to call you my friend."

Thrilo nodded and bowed at a loss for words. Ithilwen gently kissed his forehead in farewell. Illeandir stepped forward and presented Thrilo with one of the green stones he had shown the dwarf when they first met.

"It's not much, but... here." He placed the vibrant stone in Thrilo's hand. Thrilo looked up, eyes shining with gratitude.

"I will treasure this always as a memory of our friendship."

"Return home with honor, friend."

Thrilo crossed his arm over his and bowed. Illeandir bowed likewise.

His farewells said, Thrilo turned north toward home and the life he left behind. He never looked back.

Illeandir and Ithilwen idled for half an hour before setting off into the depths of Fangorn, where Illeandir knew that somehow, someway, and somewhere he would find Zaharias.

The trees were quieter than the night before, their joy muted as if they sensed what lay ahead. Perhaps they did, for many a horror had been witnessed by the most ancient of forests. Fangorn was a place of secrets, mystery, and above all; death. The moment Illeandir set foot in Fangorn that morning uneasiness settled deep inside him. Though the trees still were joyous, deep down malice was brewing.

***********************

The breaking of Illeandir has begun. Trust me when I say there is purpose behind this, even though it may not seem like it right now.

Sitting in the car, chewing on a piece of beef jerky, bemoaning the painful loss of my toenail while writing this. It looks nasty, but at the same time good because it looks how it should. I'm just glad my toe isn't broken.