The lights under the mountains twinkled, the city from afar gleaming bright, as the countless stars of the dark sky. Duillond, one of the last refuges of the Elves on the Western shore of Middle Earth, seemed now at peace, it's people no doubt taking their respite until dawn. They had many cares needing to be tended to. Perhaps they had forgotten of Daedhelos? The city, having been a home of Morithelion's father Daedhelos, was also a refuge. Inside, it housed many who would rest, to soon continue their journey on to the Havens. From there, they would set sail on their glorious swan-bowed ships for Valinor, never to return.
Morithelion stood for a moment, contemplating on turning to that road. It seemed that it would bring him peace to his ever-raging mind. Even now, he tired of his life of loneliness. The Undying Lands would be a great relief of a pain long endured.
Nay, the Elf confirmed to himself for the umpteenth time, to flee is to fear. I am not to take that road. Not yet. Morithelion thought yet again of his mother, who yet remained in Lothlorien. She, of all the souls in this world, still had faith him him at least. She would wait for him forever... until he at last had found favor with the Galadhrim. Before he could turn his gaze westward, Morithelion would have to face his fears, gaining first the favour of his kindred, then that of the Valar themselves. He did not know what they now thought of him... or of his father.
The dark grey wolf that stood beside Morithelion whimpered, sensing the Elf's worry. He nosed Morithelion's hand, placing it gently between his snout and his companion's thigh. Morithelion looked down affectionately and sighed, his mouth turning up into a small smile.
"This is not the end, my friend. I have not seen the last of you yet," Morithelion sighed, speaking in Sindarin, "Though I fear it may be a long while before we cross paths again" He stroked the wolf's head, pressing on his ears and face lovingly. The wolf replied to Morithelion, and though none other than other wolves and some of the Valar can comprehend the language of beasts, he knew that the wolf felt sorrow.
"Duinhirdraug," Morithelion addressed the wolf in his Sindarin name, meaning Wolf River-Lord, and knelt down before him, "I cannot change what I have done, but I can redress it. And I must! If I am to affirm my place someday among my kindred, I must do what I can to prove my worth. You alone will understand this fully, as it is akin to treachery of the pack." Morithelion chuckled, "Though I think my punishment not as harsh as that of yours should your warriors turn to treachery."
The wolf whimpered again, leaning against Morithelion, who spoke, "The bridge to Duillond lies yonder." He pointed westward. The bridge was indeed visible from this distance. "The eyes of Duillond are watching. Even now, they await my approach. Their sentries are ever at watch upon the towers and they can see now both you and I."
Morithelion sighed, "I fear this is where we part ways, Duinhir...." He stroked the wolf's soft fur again, "I am sorry..."
When the great River-lord lingered a second time, Morithelion's voice rose, "Go! Go! They may kill you if you enter the city! I do not know, but I fear!! Leave me! Return to the river!"
He struck the wolf across the neck, where his hand had previously been caressing the dark fur. With a yelp, Duinhirdraug turned, sprinting down to the river. He stopped to gaze mournfully at his companion, but Morithelion did not return his gaze. He had eyes only for Duillond and the task before him now.
Reaching the bridge, Morithelion turned his eyes upon his companion in sorrow. Realizing what he had done, Morithelion lifted his face to the sky, knowing that this small anger could easily multiply ten-fold in the event of what was soon to come.
"Ai Elbereth!! Grant me your grace in my quest, and cool my temper in the face of Dorongur," the Elf pleaded aloud, knowing full well that only Gilthoniel and the Valar would hear his words. "Long have I been away, I fear. Too long! Speak into his mind. Tell him of my plight and give him wisdom. Have him aid me in my quest!"
Turning to the great bridge once again, Morithelion breathed deeply, knowing that this would be the end of his solitude. From now until forever, he would labour to aid in the great designs of his kindred, the Noldor. Those with whom he so long had sought to make amends.
As he crossed the span to the city, Morithelion did not look back.
A mournful howl echoed through the darkness.
