Long ago, in the distant land known in the Sindarin tongue as Rhûn...
Sarnai, a girl of eight, sat under the night sky, warmed by an open fire and surrounded by her kin. All had finished the evening meal, but the sun had only recently set, and the chill air biting through Sarnai's hide coat and riding boots reminded her that it was an early night, in wintertime. Her kin would want something to keep them awake until it came time to go to bed and keep watches, something to warm the spirit even if their blood was cold and sluggish in the chill. On occasions such as these, Sarnai's dear mother stepped to the fore.
Oyuun did not appear to be a commanding woman, being slightly tall for her people, of smiling face and warm demeanor. This, however, had little effect on her great presence or her silver tongue. She was a born performer, and a trained storyteller, one in a family of people devoted to pursuits of learning and wisdom. Sarnai, with all of the inquisitive spirit that might be expected of a child her age, revered her mother as one who kept a great many fascinating tales and was always there to answer her questions. Standing from her place by the fire, Oyuun spread her arms wide in a grand gesture that caught the attention of her audience.
"Listen well, all who can hear me, young and old. For this is a story of the ancient times, passed to me from my mother and to her by a pair of wanderers armed only with wisdom and walking-staves." Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper. "In those times, our ancestors did not pay tribute to foul tyrants" -a cheer erupted from around the fire- "nor did they toil beneath the shadow of a greater power." Her words were met by a second cheer, the purpose of which Sarnai did not quite comprehend, but as an impressionable child, she raised her voice to join it nonetheless.
"In those times," the storyteller continued, "Men of the East lived further from the sea that is not so far to the West from where we sit. Yet we were driven Westward, for reasons that I cannot name to you all today. We followed the steps of others who had gone before us, and came to a land so far West that it had never seen any of our kind before." Pausing to allow her rapt audience to process this anecdote, Oyuun waited for a moment as they began to speak once more in a chorus of 'oohs' and 'ahs'. Sarnai remained silent, however, listening. She met her mother's gaze, and Oyuun continued with a slight smile on her face and a gleam in her eyes. "Our people followed their princes West and into this new land, and they met strange new beings there. For there were not only others who were in many ways like us, despite their giant stature-"
Oyuun paused for a moment, looking to her daughter as the small girl waved a hand in the air, mouth closed but face reddening as if she were about to burst. "What is it, Sarnai?" Sarnai opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She took a deep breath before speaking.
"Like the Reaver? The pale giant who you told us eats wicked children?" Although the stories of the Reaver were intended to frighten, Sarnai had become a little too old to see them in the light she was supposed to. She was grinning, the gaps from loosened milk teeth leaving dark hollows in a bright smile. "That would be-"
"Hush, Little Rose." Baatar, Sarnai's father, had spoken. By all accounts, Sarnai was truly her father's daughter. Both were short, of tan complexion and with dark hair and eyes. As a well-known warrior, it was largely Baatar's skill and reputation that defended the relatively weak and poor family he had married into, despite many opportunities to have had a wealthy bride of grand lineage. Sarnai had taken after him, and the two spent many long hours together as she trained to become a warrior after his image. She had a long way to go. "I understand that the Reaver is your favorite monster of legend, but your mother is telling a different story tonight, yes? You may like this one."
"Alright." Sarnai sat down and pouted, her hands folded in her lap. "I'll be quiet." Oyuun smiled, reaching over to ruffle her daughter's hair.
"This one will be worth your while, I promise." She looked up to her crowd, suddenly changing from a doting mother to become a proud orator once more. "Aside from the giant Men, the tale speaks of others, tall and fair beyond any Men of the world. It is said that they were of great skill and knowledge, mighty in battle and had no fear of death, for it would never come for them. Powerful enemies, indeed, but generous allies. So it would come to pass that the two princes of our people swore their eternal friendship with these tall Men and the Fair Ones." Quiet applause rung around the circle for the great forethought of ancestors, as it always seemed to have been in the old stories, but for one listener. As soon as Oyuun stopped speaking, Sarnai let loose her questions once more.
"But why don't we have friends now? Why don't we ever see any of these 'Fair Ones'?" Oyuun smiled and gestured for Sarnai to sit down, which the girl grudgingly obliged to do.
"Let me continue, and all of your questions shall be answered in time. You see, the powerful new friends of our people were at war, fighting an even greater foe. The tales speak of a great evil, mightier than any that we might know" -here, a few muttered curses, while Baatar stood, uttered a name, and spat in the dirt- "an evil that shadowed all this land to the West. So it was for land that our people joined, land they could till and grow upon, not like the land here where we can only herd and hunt, and for lasting friendships with which to stand against the great evil." Oyuun paused for a moment, her eyes half-closed, as if recalling a distant memory. "I have not told this story for over ten years, now. Forgive me if I am slow to remember it." The circle remained silent, waiting for her to continue. After a few seconds, but ones that seemed to Sarnai to be drawn out into hours, the storyteller spoke once more.
"At this time, our people had two princes. Both led a great host of our ancestors, but they were of different hearts. One was vile and duplicitous, wanting only for himself and never thinking for the prosperity of future generations or the honor of those who came before. I shall not speak his name here so as not to despoil the good air. The other was kind and loyal, thinking to protect his people and to follow up on his oaths. He is not known to us by any other name today but that of the Faithful One, for faithful he was until the end.
The evil that our people had sworn to fight against feared the combined might of the giant Men, the Fair Ones, and our own kind. He sought to divide this great alliance, and he chose those who were the most vulnerable. Reaching into the corrupted heart of the selfish prince, he poisoned him against his allies and made promises of great reward for those who fought beside him. As his will was weakened by the stain of greed, the selfish prince promised to turn traitor. Then he turned to the Faithful One, using these same tactics, but faithful he remained, and he did not betray his friends or the friends of his people." Oyuun sat down by the fire now, the aura that had once commanded attention retreating into her slight frame, and then she was just another woman, nothing remarkable beyond the fact that she was alive.
"Mother..." Sarnai spoke, eyes wide. "What happened to the princes?"
Oyuun turned back to her daughter, a slightly sorrowful look in her gaze. "Well, Little Rose, that is about the end of the story. The Faithful One and his people fought bravely, but it is said that they perished to the last man and woman in a great battle. Despite their efforts, they are not well-remembered among any people, even ours. The traitor prince's folk were in turn betrayed, so evil sowed is evil reaped, and they did not have all the great lands or wealth they so desired."
"Oh." Sarnai looked down at the ground, hugging her knees up to her chest. "That's not a very good ending to a story. It's so sad, and they all died because they wanted to help their friends." Oyuun sighed and stood to speak again, but Baatar stood before her. He walked over to Sarnai and sat down beside her, laying a hand on his daughter's story.
"That doesn't have to be the ending, Little Rose. We tell stories like that one to learn from them, aye?" Sarnai nodded. "So what have we learned, then?" Sarnai paused for a moment in thought, her face crinkling with a frown from the effort.
"Well... nothing good comes from breaking promises. The bad prince shows us that. We had friends, once? There were worse things than the things we have now?"
Baatar smiled. "All good lessons. But let me give you one last one -as long as you go to bed, that is, your mother needs rest- along the way to the tent." Sarnai smiled and nodded, and as her father stood, she took his hand. When he walked away from the fire, she followed, stepping out into the shadows. "You see, this is a story about friends most of all. Not all of your friends will be the ones who share blood, as you can see from the princes and their peoples. And it is good to make friends, because someday they may give their lives for you even as you make sacrifices for them." He smiled. "Now go to bed, and remember that everyone who sat with you this evening is a friend in life and death. That is what makes a family." Sarnai nodded and ducked into the tent she usually shared with her parents, pulling off her boots and collapsing on her fur blanket.
From a sliver of flickering firelight where the tent-flap was pulled aside, her father smiled. "Sweet dreams, Little Rose."
