A little over two miles north of the mouths of Sirion, among the rocks and gorse above the delta, the great river thundered down a short and scraggly cliffside. The small jump barely qualified as a waterfall, but it was loud and spray-soaked, and the children of the area often came near to play, though never so close to the bank so as to be dragged in. Below the cliff, the river continued its swirling rapid descent from the highlands down to its slightly calmer delta, and at last to the Sea.
It was to here that Naertan brought him, to 'get him out from underfoot' in the bustling settlement below. He is fairly certain his reluctant guardian had only wished to be rid of him for the day, but he cannot precisely blame her, for every Man and Elf below is terribly busy. He has occupied himself on the patchy field of rock and wild-grown grass beside the fall, and done his best not to get into any trouble. The day has now grown late, though, and soon he will have to make the descent back to the settlement.
He is uncertain if Naertan means for him to return on his own, though he is certainly old enough to do so, and for now he sits on the grass near the cliff itself instead, just far enough from the water not to be soaked with spray, resisting the urge to trail his feet in the strong current. He has little experience with rivers, and none with one this large and quick, for the high mountains of the Crissaegrim had lent themselves more to mines than to water.
The thundering river, loud and close, is a soothing guard at his back as he looks out to the Sea some miles below, and he wonders vaguely if this wide open land is to be his home now.
"Suilad!"
At a call from behind Lehtion starts, whirling around and to his feet with alacrity. A tall Elf stands not far off, near the river and far closer than he should have been able to get without Lehtion hearing him. His face is stretched wide in a smile, and his tone kind, but the word he had spoken is foreign. Lehtion bears no weapons, and so instead raises his arms slightly to be ready at his side. He stares the stranger down warily.
After a moment, the Elf suddenly appears ashamed, and shakes his head. "Apologies, young one," he says aloud in more intelligible words, "I merely greeted you. I was sent up from the town to find you."
The Elf's words are calm and his voice plesent, and Lehtion relaxes somewhat, but does not sit again. With a broad smile, the Elf strides forward and sits also near to the cliff's brink, some five or six feet from Lehtion.
"It is a wonderous view, is it not?" he asks lightly, and Lehtion wonders if any below thought to tell the Elf of . He doubts it.
It is certainly a wonderous view, especially now that the settling sun is sending flares of fire to glitter on the water, a sight both strange and strangely alluring.
"You have never seen the Sea, have you?" Startled again Lehtion swings to face him. With the Elf seated upon the ground and Lehtion standing, he finds himself only a foot or so above the other's head. The Elf's eyes, shining grey and mirroring light he cannot see, unsettle him enough to turn once more to face the glittering water. It is a mesmerizing sight, for it is true that he has never before seen the Sea. The Elf does not question him further, and silence falls between them, though the river roars on beside them.
He turns to contemplate the rushing water itself, instead, as he often has since their ragged company had first found the river's course and followed it. He wonders if anyone could wade into its course and not be swept to a crushing death below.
The tall Elf seems to pluck the thought from his eyes with the ease of fruit from a tree, and laughs suddenly. The sound is of gleaming stones and deep-set foundations, and his eyes, when Lehtion turns to meet them, blaze even brighter with his mirth. Lehtion's own eyes water.
"Nay," the Elf says merrily, and Lehtion regards him wide-eyed. "There are none that I know of who have, for most bathe further downstream just before the water turns salt. I have not dwelt here long, though, so perhaps Brenhael might be a more informative source."
Lehtion shakes his head, then cocks it in a question. Before he can think of a way to sign it out, the Elf yet again picks it from his mind without effort.
"I lived in Nargothrond for many years, and came here with the remnant of that people." his words are no longer merry, and there is a soft sadness now to his eyes that is no brighter than Lehtion's own, he meets them now in curiousity. The Elf smiles gently.
"Naertan send me up to fetch you down, young master," he said, "but did not mention your name. I am Saedhruin, if it pleases you," Lehtion wonders if the Elf will skim this information also from his thoughts, but Saedhruin merely sits upon the ragged grass beside him, watching him. Lehtion crouchs to scratch the letters out in the rocky soil, and though his letters are perhaps a bit shaky, they are legible all the same.
"Child of the free," Saedhruin says softly, some unidentifiable emotion twined within the words. Lehtion hesitates, then sits on the grass beside him and looks out. The sun remains some distance from the horizon yet, but the walk down is not so short a journey and they will soon have to depart. Saedhruin hums something beneath his breath, a soft melody that mingles with the falling water and chimes like the birds of dusk. Lehtion listens, and wishes, not for the first time, that he could lift his voice in like song.
After a minute Saedhruin falls silent, and after another he speaks.
"Perhaps you might be called Leithon in the tongue of this land," Saedhruin says, as if speaking aloud a silent discourse, "or perhaps Lainion would be a better translation." His voice is light, and Lehtion shrugs, for he cares not what any person might call him in the grey tongue. They stand, and Saedhruin towers above him once more.
It has been the first of many nights, sat watching the sun over the water, but now they turn for the winding path below.
