We do not often see them as they hide in the dark, watching, always watching. In envy. In fear. In hatred? They are wild, they are hostile, they resemble orcs in their coarseness – at first we confused them with the Dark Enemy’s creatures. Then the realization came to us and we understood who they are: the Refusers, the Elves of the Dark, the ones who wouldn't heed Oromë's call, the Avari. They do not know - do not care – about beauty and creation and light. Maybe some of them even convene with the Enemy.
These haughty foreigners have strange eyes. They trample through the forests, killing animals, felling trees. They cannot travel without their horses as if they have lost the capacity to walk living pampered lives beyond the Sea. They build in stone, afraid of the earth and the wind and the rain. They have forgotten who they really are, how Elves are one with nature. That is what they have gained for deserting their roots and abandoning Middle-earth. Now they have come back and behave as if the land was theirs. They call themselves the Wise. But what wisdom do they have, with their petty quarrels and their arrogance?
One day, riding across the forest, we were ambushed by a pack of Orcs hiding in the dark. We were badly outnumbered and could not withdraw. So we fought, with all our might but the end was inevitable. As we were being slowly cornered and slaughtered, we glimpsed movement beyond the trees and we thought – hoped, dreamt – we could perceive eyes in the forest. Elvish eyes.
Help us. Please. Please. Help.
With our voices and with our minds.
Please.
The noise and a vague feeling of unrest drew our band to a clearing where we found a party of foreigners fighting and being beaten by the creatures of the Enemy. Our enemy. We jumped into the fray and fought side by side until the last Orc was killed. Their swords, our arrows and daggers. Together.
Out of breath and covered in blood we stood. Face to face. For the first time. We had never seen them so close before. Their eyes were not like ours. We had never really spoken. Their language was not like ours.
“We are Quendi,” they said.
“So are we”, we replied
“Sisters”
“Brothers”
One love
One blood
One life
You got to do what you should
One life
With each other
Sisters
Brothers
One life
But we’re not the same
U-2 “One”
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