But Maybe That Was The Light Of The Trees by Nekomitsu

Wilderland

In response to the March 18 entry at the B2MeM 2011 challenge. The act of kindness or hospitability usually comes from a generous heart. Write a story or poem, or create a piece of art where your character displays this virtue.

The steady increase of the number of orcs in his wandering path forced Maglor to starve more often than not.  Travellers became less common and showed unsavoury characters.  It heralded an Age reaching its climax, Maglor thought, before going back to procuring food for himself and singing his sorrow to the everchanging waves and silent trees.

One afternoon across the wilderness he trapped a wild hare, as pitiful and scrawny as most beings in the area had become.  Still, it was nourishement of a kind and Maglor was gratefully preparing it over a small campfire when a Man entered the circle of light, treading softly but announcing his arrival with a soft voice speaking greeting words in the mixed jumble elventongue had become through time.

The man was young in years and easily as skinny as the roasting hare, but there was strength in his arms and pride in his face.  His eyes were gray and shone with an inner light.  They reminded Maglor of Elros' eyes.

He invited the Man to share his food, meager as it was, and the Man accepted and passed his own wineskin.  Maglor drank.

"What is your name, stranger?" the Man asked.

Maglor smiled softly.  "Some called me Bard," he said, "back when there was reason to be known as such."

"Bard," the Man repeated, accepting the obvious concealment.  "I have known of a Bard up in the North, but he was a Man and not one of the fair folk."

Maglor shrugged.  He took another sip of wine and didn't ask for the stranger's name.

"They call me Strider," the stranger offered anyways.  The fire brought sparks of steel to his eyes and Maglor almost called him Elros nonetheless.