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It is considered among many Men that to live forever would be far preferable to their short lifespans, and some covet the Elves’ immortality, or what they think of as immortality. But to the Elves it can be a heavy burden to bear, as their memories grow ever longer as the centuries pass, and it dismays and troubles them to see the world changing around them. It is written that the Elves will endure only as long as the world endures, although this is beyond reckoning. And though their wills were created to withstand travail and hardship better than any of the Children of Ilúvatar, their bodies are made of the stuffs of the earth, and are capable of being wounded, maimed, and destroyed. It cannot be otherwise, for they would not exist if they did not have a place to exist therein. And as they are bound within the world, the Elves are subject to the decrees of Destiny and the twists of Fate: thus they have both good and evil fortunes, just as the other races.
It happened that the Elf Parnard resolved to find a new wandering-place, far away from his woodland home, and looking at his map, it occurred to him to travel to the Wilderlands. This territory was drawn only in the vaguest detail, and he thought that he would explore and chart the land, and keep a journal of his adventures for the benefit of other wanderers. So it was that after many days of travel under the eaves of the forest, he reached the Narrows of Mirkwood, and headed eastward, thinking to ford the River Running.
One early Winter’s evening, when the sun had just sunk below the crests of the pines, Parnard came upon a weazened, one-eyed man who seemed very distressed and begged for him to stop. The man told him that his comrade had taken ill and was in urgent need of aid, and asked for his help in transporting him to a nearby village.
Now Parnard had little experience dealing with Men, having never spoken to them because he avoided their towns and other places where they settled, and so he did not know how desperate and wicked they often are. He told the man that he would go at once and see what he could do to help. The man led him off a distance to a cave in a thicket.
“He is in there,” the man told him, and Parnard dismounted from his horse and entered the cave. No sooner had he walked a few steps inside when five men fell upon him, grabbing him by the arms. They snatched his purse off his belt, stripped him of his clothes, and throwing him down to the ground by his hair, began to kick and pummel him.
He would have certainly been murdered on the spot, had not one of the bandits (who was more cunning than his fellows) urged them to stop at once. “Wait,” said the rogue, “we should not kill him here at our camp but elsewhere. Let the wild animals take care of the cleaning up!”
The bandits thought this was an excellent idea and dragged Parnard off towards the woods. He was dragged a long way, as whenever one wanted to stop, the others would not agree, objecting that the place was not lonely enough. So they dragged and dragged him further on, deeper and deeper into the forest, over stones and through brambles, until he was all over torn and bruised. Finally they came to the edge of a large clearing and halted. The men were reluctant to go any further into the dark forest, where fell creatures creep and feed upon the blood of the unwary. Deciding that this was a good place for their evil deed, they bound Parnard fast to the closest tree.
One of the men drew out a long knife, and brandishing it before Parnard’s face, made several menacing jabs in the air. But the elf did not move or show any signs of fear, and seemed strangely calm. In fact, he was still dazed from being beaten, and was only now realizing his danger. The villain turned to his comrades and laughed, then suddenly lunging forward drove the knife straight down, intent on plunging it into the elf’s throat. Parnard flinched away at the last moment and felt a burning-hot pain as the sharp blade sliced through the flesh of his ear, almost severing it in two.
”What barbarous cruelty! Oh, to think that I will die by the hand of a base-born ruffian,” he cried out in Sindarin, and would have said more, had he not been punched in the face. A million tiny lights exploded before his eyes. All at once the men began yelling.
“Do not use your sorcery upon us, Elf!”
“Cut his throat!”
“Cut his tongue out first!”
“Listen!” said a fourth, lifting his head. “Did you hear that?”
“It sounded like –“ began the first, but he never got to finish his sentence. There was a shrill whistling sound and the man fell over dead, an arrow sticking out between his shoulder blades.
“Elves,” cried the bandits, and scattered off into the darkness under the trees. The men that were not eaten by wolves or spiders did not return to trouble those parts for a long time.
But the bandits were wrong: it was not Elves but Woodmen. These Men lived on the borders of the forest and earned their living harvesting trees and transporting the logs down the river. It was Woodmen who had made the clearing, known as the East Bight. They are a doughty folk, for chopping down the tall trees of Mirkwood is grueling and dangerous work.
It was lucky for Parnard that his horse was a smart one. As soon as Swan-Hoof saw her master dragged off to the forest, the good creature galloped away, towards a nearby camp that she spotted. When the Woodmen saw such a fine-looking horse with no rider or saddle running wild, they chased her all the way to the clearing. Then hearing the bandits’ commotion, they came up stealthily and saw a elf in distress.
Parnard would relate later in his notes:
They showed me no common kindness; for they took me to their dwelling place, and built a snug shelter for me, because of the rain that was falling, and kindled a fire for me, because of the cold. And even though my illness was a trial to them, they did not treat me with contempt or scorn, but as an honored guest.
When they are not working, the Woodmen are fond of telling each other outlandish stories as if they were truth, each trying to outdo the last storyteller in utter ridiculousness. They like to play at boisterous games, more of chance than skill, or those that require great strength and dexterity, such as tossing tree-stumps and juggling axes. I found these games in particular to be very dull. They prepare a type of liquor, called médhu, distilled from wild honey. The Woodmen hold contests to see who can drink the most buckets of this brew before falling over. I would win easily, once I had gotten used to its peculiar odor, but the taste seemed to improve the more one drank. These men do not play the harp, or the lute, but a curious instrument held on the knees and played by strumming, or plucking, depending on the sound desired. Their songs are typically about love, and drinking médhu, or the feats of heroic Woodmen. Sad tunes they sing too, about drownings, and trees falling on the heroic Woodmen, and scorned lovers who turn to médhu for solace, and other mournful themes.
The Woodmen’s leechcraft is not skillful, but they were able to stitch together Parnard’s ear, though it left a scar. They gave him plenty of food to eat and médhu to drink, and warm clothes, sturdy but crudely made. When he was well enough, Parnard asked for hides and thread, and set about fashioning a new suit of clothes for himself. The Woodmen marveled at its fit and suppleness, and while Parnard stayed among them, he taught them much about needlecraft, but he did not help with their tree harvesting.
When Spring came, they asked Parnard to accompany them to their other camp, but he declined. Feeling that he had seen as much of the Eastern lands that he wished, and not caring to map out any more of the Wilderlands, he took leave of his honest hosts, and rode off towards the southwest, where the old Elven fortress Amon Lanc lay.
“They say it is overrun with evil,” he said to Swan-Hoof, “but I would look upon it, nonetheless.” Swan-Hoof whinnied and tossed her head, as this was all the dumb creature could do to express what she thought of this elf’s foolish notion: not that he would give heed to her counsel if she could speak.
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