"You have been long away from your kindred, child of Daedhelos. Now, in these dark times, you return to the people of your father. Why is this so? What news do you bring to me?"
The words of Dorongur Whitethorn struck deep inside Morithelion. The uncertainty with which the lord spoke instilling worry within his soul.
"I... seek to find records of my father, who long ago fought in The Last Alliance. You know this...and you are aware of the charges that he, and now I, carry," Morithelion spoke, lowering his head slightly in reverence for the Master of Duillond. "I have come to prove what he could not."
The Elf Lord looked into the eyes of the visitor, "You are welcome to stay...for a time. But do not wish to hope, young one. Perhaps it is best to look towards the future, not the past. What is done is done. You cannot change it. Accept it only and instead seek clemency for your deeds."
Morithelion clenched his fist, dark anger growing within his heart. He spoke now with a quiet menace, his ire threatening to show, "My father was NOT a deserter, NOT a traitor! He was a noble man, who wished only to protect his family and his people. He died valiantly. Many great warriors were not recovered. Why suspect him any different than those who fought by his side?!"
Dorongur returned his anger with a cool, calm tone, "Child, be still. Your father was a great Elf, but never above mistakes. None of us are. However, if you wish to, you may find our tomes of history and our records within the Scholar's Enclave. There, search for what you seek, and be calmed to know that you are welcome here should you choose to repent and redress your wrongs."
Nodding, Morithelion made his way to the inner city. Though he desired to speak with Whitethorn further, he knew that that would only induce greater conflict between them. That was not what he needed now.
Shaking his head and sighing, the Lord turned to a tall Elf beside him, "Arnaeth, watch him with care. I worry..." He stopped, shaking his head in thought.
"I will, my lord," Arnaeth motioned to two watchers nearby and followed the young elf silently, weapons at his side. Lord Dorongur watched until they were out of sight, then sighed again, leaving to tend to what other duties he must.
Morithelion entered the Enclave, his thoughts raging in his mind. My father...was not a deserter...he could not have been!! I know him better than anyone.... Though he struggled to reassure himself with these thoughts, doubts on the other side of sanity fought for supremacy as well. But...he was not always so kind to me... what if? What if he was never the noble man I took him for? Could this be true? NO! What would Lord Dorongur know? He never knew my father well...
Gazing at a long, white scar, jagged across his palm, Morithelion recalled his father's angry and erratic nature. What if it was a sign?
What if Daedhelos was truly the son of Maeglin?
