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Daelith's Fate (I) : Poor soul..




I could not believe my eyes and I dropped the cup of wine that was keeping me company just outside of the overcrowded Hall of Fire. The walk, the stature of that hooded cloak elf that seemed to want to pass unnoticed were so well known! I left the shards and the floor stained with wine -forgiven be my lack of courtesy to our kind host- and I rushed  to call his name. He dismissed me pretending I take him for someone else. Yeah, right, and the voice was just similar also. Beyond any worry I was glad to see him in one piece. I followed him silent as he sneaked to the upper floor of the Hall. I sited on the floor at the end of the stairs leaving him time to look upon the hall silent until a sad sigh gave me courage to talk again. 

"I have tracked creatures more hard to recognize then you old friend!" 

He did not turn. I approached him and tried to take his hands but he avoided me. He was looking upon the hall, the hood of his cloak still covering his face but I could guess the sadness from his voice. "How happy they are.." He asked me for news and I made the most brief report ever.. I am not even sure what I left out. I wanted to convince him to stay, that he is welcomed home, he had time to find out all news later!

I told him of Veryacano's regret for his rushed words and of his forgiveness. I offered to bring his old friend to welcome him with better words then I could find. And then he looked at me light falling on his face. I fear I became pale, the last thing he needed. My mind started to search words of confort and memories of potions strong enough to help heal such wounds: his face was almost impossible to recognize, nothing reminded the beauty of the elf who departed from Rivendell in tears. It is said that our kin can heal with proper care any wound except missing limbs. With all care he could not possibly be the same now but would he accept at least the help I could give, or even better, that of healers more skilled then a huntress that knows to gather some herbs for few potions. His next words diminished my hopes. He did some of those himself?? How deep must have been the despair in his soul! And the rest of wounds inflicted by goblins... where could he find more then his sword would disperse with ease?? I heard of his skill in battle. I did not have the heart to ask him to show himself like this to all there as I first hoped, to those who blamed him as well as to friends, to those who think themselves better and those who would pity him with no right.

He told me he will leave again but that he needed to return. And that he missed me? *handwrite is changed as if the writer took long to write this*. I wanted him to stay so much as I knew I could help him. But was that worth for the one who left with a aura of greatness around him to return defeated in such degree? I knew what I would chose, for I believe I take much on the proud kind of my grandfather that followed the Lady Galadriel to this realm: I would rather die then return like this. So I let him go and I did not follow. I know where he is going and perhaps there will be soon a time to follow alone and offer the help and comfort I can. If not I am sure he will return again like this. What words he chose, made me shiver as for a bad feeling.. that we will see each other again before any of us dies.. 

I do not know what to do.. There is Cirdamir I promised to wait for, and an oath given for my efforts to be of use to our kin that bind me here. But can I leave him to his misery like this, like I did not know, like I did not care? Was them who welcomed me in this new home and filled the loneliness I felt with Cirdamir being away to mourn his brother. One of them I will only see again on the other side of the West Sea if ever.. Will I allow the same for the other?

And he gave me this..

* a dark stain on the paper shows a small item was placed on it, as for the writer to look at it for long time*