The dog barked shortly, as he ran out and gave himself away from the bushes. Theogorn hobbled from the woods into the glade, surrounded by his bellowing sheep through his humming melodies. He paused for a moment, leaning on a shepherd’s stick to grasp a little breath from his recent climb on the hill. It was a bright and cloudless morning, with a warm wind of the sorts that moves flickering spots on the turf and foretells a midsummer thunderstorm after squeezing air.
Theogorn felt welcomed by the sight of this quiet glade, a paradise on its own, rediscovered after ages of tranquillity. The creepers and the ivy hung over the water and the bark tickled the little blades with its roots. In the wildness of this sanctuary, Theogorn spotted a large rock, tall and prone, and overhanging on the side of a majestic view. Invited by the prominence of this host, he treaded to this ever watching guardian and entered its cracks and folds, rising to the sky.
When he finally managed to scramble to the top, his breath was taken entirely away, not only from the heath of wind and reflection on the rocks, but also from his spent energy, only to be baffled by the rewards on the skyline. The Eastfold was stretched before him. Smoke rising from the towns among the trees, and glitter sparkling from the rivers. And what did he see there? The glimmering of the spearheads of a trampling éored, ready to fulfil its destiny on the banks in the west? After having stood on the peek for a while and being enthralled by the comings and goings of the Mark, Theogorn stretched his arms and body, only to rest after that and go cross-legged on the surface. He put his hands at ease on his knees and closed his eyes, letting all worries go in a stance of meditation. He assumed the touch of wind in his face and allowed the force to lift up his locks into the air. A deep breath followed.
For a moment there was only darkness. But it didn’t take long, and soon a tip of light was released. It fluttered from left to right, up, and then down. There was something magical in it, throwing tendrils of a beautiful dream, and making up for the peace-keeper of all times. The heart quietened down, as if peoples of middle-earth lived happily together and the mean orcs wholly disappeared from the world. And then, out of all the unexpected things that could happen, a voice echoed through the deep. “You cannot run away, why do you resist?” Theogorn found himself in clear streaming water, pure from the mountains, but reaching his waist. He could see beginning nor end, and all else was desolate. On one side of the river, he saw an aged wrinkled man, grey was his hair, and young and old like spring. He looked to Theogorn, while he rested under the tree with corn between his lips.
But then, the man straightened up, and picked up a red sword from beneath the waving grass. His movements were swift, without hesitation, and so were his feet. He took big paces, jerking step by step over rock and hill, and he cried to the lad. “So you want to go? You wish to run from your duties?” He assumed a ferocious position, walking back and forth. “You forget who you are. You forget your family and your people. Who raised you with your cape? Who delivered your lectures and your trainings? Did not I? But you deny your heritage! One day I will be gone and when that moment comes, YOU, the oldest of my offspring, have to lead our family. Then YOU take my seat in the council, and YOU shall sit on the noble chairs of our ancestors.” He spread his arms in his pride and anger, and so he continued: “But you fear the responsibilities then, I guess? That your siblings will look to you as their patriarch! You fear to raise your hand and say aye around the table! You’d rather run into the woods and search the comfort of your sheep, or chit-chat with your sisters? Or do you live up by the tales and dreams and songs we told you? Yes, is that it? You’d take your horse and ride out to the unknown, even if you have no purpose but here? Well, find your purpose! Find who you are and what you can! Find your courage, and see what you are made of! THEN GO!”
With these final words, he leaped himself upwards, and hurled the sword away. It swung many feet over the stream, spinning around, to be cast with its edgy point in the soil on the other side of the river. It split the earth with many cracks in a flash, and the world and all we ever knew crumbled. The sky fell down and the river swelled, and a great flood rose to destroy everything in its path, sweeping Theogorn away, and his father, and his sword. Thunder rolled and lightning struck, and at that very moment Theogorn blinked and pouring rain was all he remembered.
