A Sense of History: Straight Road
The next in a series of articles about ships passing to and from the West, Simon uses "The Fall of Númenor" to attempt to arrive at Tolkien's reading of the exordium to "Beowulf."
Chapter 2
Concealed beneath the dark of the forest I watched. This was what I’d been looking for. Searching for. Longing for without quite realising what that thing was. I smiled suddenly in relief and leaned against the trunk of a slender tree to get a better view.
Several small shelters had been built alongside the muddy bank, the colours blending near perfectly with the surroundings. They reminded me almost of badger’s sets. Or what badger sets would have looked like above ground. Eagerly I watched as creatures like me wandered between them.
For a long while I did not approach. I watched from the trees, unsure of whether to go on or to turn back, worrying my lip till the skin felt raw. I took a deep breath... steeling myself and stepped out from the safety of the forest for the first time.
I felt naked. The fine hair covering my body no longer seemed enough without the constant cover of foliage. The starlight glinted off my hair, showing its true colour of liquid gold, darker and deeper than the tiny yellow flowers that had dotted the paths of the forest. I slowed as I got closer to the shelters, I could see now that they were more like bird’s nests, layer upon layer of branches and mud had been weaved together. I swallowed stiffly, fear creeping up my back, but I continued on.
One of them was waiting. I stood frozen as she looked at me, first at my hair then closer at my face. I shied away from looking back into those eyes; huge blue orbs that made me feel... I don’t know, but I didn’t like it one bit.
“You are Quendi.” She said softly, her voice ringing in the air. I had never heard another speak, it was marvellous. Sometimes I would speak to myself in the forest, laughing at the sounds, but this was different. She was looking at me now, waiting for me to answer. I glanced at her hair, gold like mine but lighter and downy, twisted into strange patterns down her back.
“...Quendi,” I repeated, my mouth sounding out the unfamiliar word. She smiled suddenly, brilliantly. I laughed.
Still smiling, she explained, “Those who speak. We have been waiting for you, watching out for you for a long time. Come.” She reached out her hand, I hesitated. Placing my hand into hers I felt the softness of skin, so different from the long fur or shaggy pelts of other animals. I felt the warmth of her and smiled to myself. Forgetting the forest I followed her willingly into the heart of the shelters.