Hours passed as Curundar sat deep in thought in his Talan. The moon high in the sky and a gentle breeze blew through the window, gently moving the hair of the young Elf. The pages of the book long abandoned by Curundar flew in the gentle breeze. Curundar rested his chin on the palm of his hand and stared out of the window.
"What should I do?" His eyes wandered to the abandoned book then back to the window. "How can I stay here when I've almost gotten someone killed… Twice!" He flinched at the memories before shaking his head to rid of them quickly.
After a while, he sighed and let his eyes drift to the door where his spear was resting, with the shield laid over it. With a doubtful look the Elf slowly got up from the chair and made his way to the weapons. He grabbed the top of the shield with one hand and the spear with the other, and moved them to the bed on the other side of the room. Placing them both against the bed, he pulled out a rucksack from underneath and opened it. He got up and started gathering clothes, a few books and other essentials he might need on the road.
Pulling the rucksack onto his back, Curundar picked up his shield. He’d had it since he was a young Elfling, made by his father some years ago. It was a battered shield made of simple wood, with an outline of metal to reinforce it from blows. It was riddled with arrow holes and sword marks.
A small smile crossed Curundar’s lips as he remembers the day his father gave him the shield.
The smile faded quickly as the memory of the earlier battle creeped back into his mind.
Curundar sighed softly before slowly shrugging the shield onto his back and gently grabbing the spear. With a small nod and one last look around the room he walked out and made his way towards to the door. He stopped and turned around, then walked back towards the table next to his bed. He opened the draw and pulled out a piece of cloth. He unwrapped it slowly, and looked down at the object. An old spearhead that once belonged to his father's spear, when he was a March Warden. It looked like it had broken off from the pole at some point in a battle.
Curundar looked down at for a moment before wrapping the cloth back around it and placed it in one of the pockets of the rucksack, before heading out of the door and into the night.
Curundar walked along the Talans as he made his way to the stairs that spiraled down the length of the great Mallorn. But before he could set foot on the first step an Elf came walking up, almost walking into the young Elf.
"Curundar! What are you doing out so late?"
"Commander Ryruil! I err...I came to the decision that perhaps I should leave Lothlórien for a time." His head lowered as he continued. "I gave what you suggested, about finding training elsewhere, and came to the conclusion that perhaps I can find a way to overcome my fears... And redeem myself, somehow."
Ryruil nodded when the young Elf spoke. "Let it takes as long has it needs, Curundar. These things take time and can't be rushed to quickly, but I do hope to see you return a stronger Elf. And perhaps something else. I am sure you will make your father proud one day I'm sure." Ryruil smiled, walked closer and placed a hand on Curundar's shoulder.
"Farewell, young one. I will tell The Lady that I gave you leave." With one last pat on the young Elf's shoulder, Ryruil walked away, leaving Curundar alone near the stairs.
Curundar looked down the path Ryruil had taken, and gazed upon the buildings he’d gazed upon all of his life, before resuming his walk down the stairs. Down the path he had walked so many times before, towards the gate. Perhaps for the last time. He walked over the bridge and followed the path north towards the High Pass, into the Misty Mountains. As he was about to set foot on the path up to the High Pass he turned to have one last look at the Golden Woods. With a final sigh he turned and made his way up the path, unsure when he would return again.
