One Flesh, One Soul. Part I by FellFireFan

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Chapter 7

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Valinor,

The year of the trees

 The small, nimble body wandered aimlessly through the great trees of Valinor. With a spring in his graceful step, the youthful, adolescent elf glided through the glade, his keen sences were alive with his surroundings. A wild, unkempt mane of golden hair mingled with the filtered sunlight, dazzling all who saw it. Despite relishing in his freedom, he was restless. Knowing if the kings guard should take notice of him, it would be a swift march straight back home. The adventure that lurked beyond the stifling palace walls proved to much of a temptation for a young prince, and his many escapes have proved this so.

  ("Aegnor!") A clarion call echoed through the verdant boughs, drawing the young eldar's immediate attention. His fair countenance was illuminated with unbridled delight, his eyes kindling with a beautiful, ethereal glow as he espied his companions approaching in the distance.

  Aegnor hastily smoothed the wild, golden curls that framed his visage, nearly forgetting the delicate circlet that crowned his noble brow - a symbol of his royal lineage as a prince of the Noldor With a swift motion, he plucked the ornament from his head, secreting it behind his back just as the small troupe of juvenile elves drew nigh, their excited smiles greeting his sparkling, bright gaze.

  ("I had thought the watchful eyes of the King's guard would have quelled your timely escape!") the apparent leader of the group remarked, his pale eyes alight with amusement. This elven youth, Onmerïo, possessed an air of authority and confidence in his bearing, his raven tresses cascading down his back in a single, intricate braid.

 ("Ah, but you underestimate me, dear Onmerïo!") Aegnor replied, his lilting voice etched with the innocence of youth. ("I am far too swift on my feet for the eyes of any palace guard to catch!") The young prince's face was alight with a triumphant grin.

  The quartet of companions closed ranks around him, their expressions radiant with camaraderie. Onmarïo's laughter rang out, melodic as the songs of the nightingales. ("It seems I was wrong to doubt you, Aegnor. We had all feared you would not come to join us, and as a reward for your unwavering devotion,") the dark-haired elf continued, his eyes glimmering with the spirit of adventure, ("we shall share with you our most recent discovery - one we know will pique your great interest!")

  Aegnor's heart swelled with unbridled excitement, his wide smile, a beacon of uncontainable delight.

 ("Come, quickly!") Onmarïo called, turning on his heel and disappearing into the verdant embrace of the forest, his long braid whipping the air in his wake.

  The youthful company swiftly followed their undisputed leader. Their fleeting forms a blur of grace and speed. Left behind, Aegnor cast a furtive glance about, carefully placing his delicate circlet at the foot of a mighty tree, concealing it amidst the fallen leaves and branches. With a lightness of step befitting the Eldar, he took off in pursuit of his companions, easily catching up to the vibrant entourage as they wove through the dappled glades like graceful spirits.

  Yet, amidst the throng, the young prince emerged at the back, his resplendent golden locks a crown of unrivalled splendour that set him apart from the others with unquestionable distinction - a beacon of superior beauty and noble bearing.

  They ran deep into the woods where even light was challenged by the thick branches and leaves. Panting, they soon stopped before a large pit in the forest ground. Deep, dark, and lined with bones of animals unfortunate enough to fall in.

   The youthful band of Elven companions gathered at the precipice, their keen eyes drinking in the ominous depths of the shadowed pit before them. Yet Aegnor, scion of the noble House of Finarfin, stood apart from the group, his gaze scanning the sombre forest around them with a growing unease.

   ("A chasm of eternal gloom, where the spawn of Ungoliant herself come to dwell,") Onmariö whispered, his voice tinged with awe ("A disturbance has roused dark creatures from their slumber.")

  ("We should depart this place,") Aegnor urged, his calm tones belying the anxiety that stirred within him. ("Something fell lurks nearby, I sense its watchful gaze upon us.")

  Laughter erupted from the group, drawing Aegnor's attention. ("Lo! The prince is possessed by fear!") Onmariö cried out in mockery, his lips curling into a sinister smile. ("Perhaps we have pushed him too far from the sheltered halls of Valinor.")

  ("There is no true valour without first facing one's fears,") Aegnor replied evenly, his words imbued with a wisdom that belied his tender years. ("As my noble sire Finarfin, son of Finwë the High King, is wont to say.")

  Onmariö's gaze narrowed, a calculating light in his eyes. ("Ah yes, your exalted father, who would surely not approve of you consorting with the likes of us.") He stepped aside, gesturing grandly. ("Yet who am I to deny the scion of a great house his chance to prove his mettle? Come, noble prince, and take your place among us.")

  With a steadying breath, Aegnor stepped forward, joining the others at the precipice. Leaning cautiously over the void, the foul stench from the darkness below assailed his senses, causing his trembling breath to flutter into the ominous chasm.

  Unbeknownst to Aegnor, one of the youths had slipped behind him, drawing forth a small but keen blade from the folds of his tunic. Swiftly, he grasped a large swath of Aegnor's glorious golden hair and, with a decisive stroke, severed it from his head. The blade nicked the delicate tip of Aegnor's ear and scored his cheek, drawing pinpricks of scarlet.

  Aegnor whirled around, his eyes wide with alarm, to behold the chunk of shorn hair held aloft by his tormentor. ("Did you truly believe you were worthy of our company?") the youth sneered, dropping the severed locks and grinding them into the dirt with his foot. ("How did you not perceive this trap? You do not belong among us, princeling!")

  Aegnor's gaze ignited with a furious light, his fair features twisting with righteous wrath. His hand tightened into a fist as their sadistic laughs echoed around him like ringing bells. Suddenly, he launched himself at the offender, raining blows upon him. But Onmariö swiftly intervened, wrenching Aegnor off his companion and delivering his own savage punishments upon the young prince.

  Aegnor fought with all his might but was utterly overwhelmed by the relentless assault. When one of the youths seized his leg and began to twist, a piercing scream of agony was torn from Aegnor's lips. The searing pain shot through his body, and he begged them to cease.

  Onmariö, his cruelty satiated, ordered the others to ("cast the pathetic wretch where none may find him.") Gathering the battered and broken Aegnor, they hurled him into the dark, yawning abyss of the pit below.

  Aegnor tumbled down, his clothes and hair now fouled with mud and grime. As he rose unsteadily to his feet, he looked up to the faces of his former companions, now devoid of any trace of affection. Raining down stones upon him, they mocked and jeered at his pitiful state.

  ("Behold! The filth-encrusted vermin, look at his clothes!") One jeered, his words laced with sinister mirth.

   ("Witness his pitiful tears!") Another laughed, relishing the sight, ("Aid me! For I am not but a pitiful wretch, yearning for the embrace of a guard to shield me from my own worthlessness!")

   But the cruel onslaught was abruptly halted by a deafening roar that reverberated through the shadowed depths. Aegnor's wide eyes beheld a horrifying creature slinking forth from the cave's maw, its hungry maw agape. The youths scattered in terror, abandoning Aegnor to his grim fate.

  Trembling, Aegnor braced himself to face the looming menace. In a savage lunge, the creature seized his leg and dragged him into the darkness. Aegnor's screams echoed through the abyss, his cries for aid falling on deaf ears.

    Pieces of sharp bone scratched and tore at his delicate skin as the darkness consumed him. Finally, he felt the sharp pinscher hold on his leg release, and he came to an abrupt stop. Not even his keen eyes could see what stood before him. His hearing was the only weapon he had. Menacing growls and coupled with a strange buzzing echoed in front of him. He was unable to determine the exact position of this horrid monster. One wrong move would cost him his life. He also heard the same buzzing, only of a higher frequency all around him. To his horror, he realised that he stood in the centre of this creatures nest.

   There was a sudden slight knock against his foot. A broken bone, a grim remnant of a former meal, its end sharp and pointed. He picked it up. Without hesitation, Aegnor plunged the makeshift weapon into the body of one of the creatures young. A piercing hiss of agony shrieked from the wounded larva. The parent came rushing to protect it. Seizing this fleeting distraction, Aegnor frantically crawled away. He headed toward a stream of light. A tunnel that leads to the outside. It grew narrower, pressing against him, but he pushed forward, relentlessly pursuing the slender ray of light that beckoned him.

   Finally, he reached the stony seal at the tunnel's end, and with a surge of relief, he pushed it open, emerging into the cool embrace of fresh air and the softness of grass beneath him. Covered in a shroud of dirt and wounds, he clutched the severed chunk of unsightly hair, his tears mingling with the dirt upon his face, the young prince fled the accursed scene.

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Dorthonion

369 A.D

The cool moonlight caressed his bare chest, casting a warm, enchanting glow that heightened every contour of his flawless skin. Around his neck, glistened an enchanting silver pendant that hung low at his flesh. The soft blue glow traced the lines of his taut, chiselled jaw and the sharp angles of the cheekbones of his smooth, unblemished face. Strands of golden hair, unbound and cascading, traced the sinuous curves of his muscular chest and arched shoulders, leading the eye to a sculpted waist and an enticingly taut navel. His dark cerulean leggings clung low around his narrow hips. The scar in his left shoulder, a token of his encounter with the child he saved, served as a reminder of his indebtedness to a young girl and his unwavering resolve to see her again, someday.

    In his ringed hand, Aegnor held his cherished knife up in front of his face. He admired its unrivalled beauty, seeking solace from his tumultuous thoughts. A refined moonstone handle intertwined with veins of silver and gold, a testament to elven opulence and power. The blade, double-edged and honed to perfection, bore intricate elvish craftsmanship. Truly, it was a blade of exquisite artistry. As his gaze caressed its form, the tip of his velvety tongue effortlessly glided over the plump curves of his enticing lips, leaving a trail of glistening allure upon their surface. A heavy sigh escaped him. Shrouded in longing and desire.

   The image of the raven haired maiden as she rode away across the stream lingered in Aegnor's mind like a haunting shadow. Her voice, like a sirens song, echoed heavily within him, torturing every thought he was unable to shake her from his head. Her guileless, enigmatic eyes ignited a maddening intrigue, an insatiable curiosity.

  "Curse that wretched maid!" He exclaimed within his mind, his thoughts consumed by the enigmatic woman who had crossed his path. "I can not shake her memory from the forefront of my mind, try as I might. How came she to know my name while I remain ignorant of hers? Yet..." He paused, a flicker of familiarity would cross his features. "Yet she seemed so familiar, as if I had known her in some distant age." His mind would echo within.

  The very moment where she had left him without a word, both intrigued and infuriated him. If he would ever see her again, he will be sure to have his answer. Whether she would willingly give it or not. No respite awaited him as he lay sprawled upon his bed.

     He rose with a commanding presence, his lithe frame unfolding as his long legs gracefully touched the floor. With a swift, purposeful motion, he plunged the knife blade into the solid wooden table, the resounding thud echoing through the room, a testament to his strength and resolve drawing his gaze to the chalice of wine. With a single, uninterrupted motion, he brought the chalice to his lips, and with one long brazen swig, he claimed its contents. The rich, velvety liquid cascaded down his throat. Intoxicating him with its sensual taste and the sense of pleasure that followed after. The raw seduction he exuded with every movement, a quality that forever escaped his notice, penetrated from his core.

    As he stared down the empty chalice, his gaze hardened, his jaw clenched with a brooding intensity. A weighty, foreboding sensation settled upon him, a storm brewing in his soul. Refusing to succumb to the familiar, unwelcome thoughts that threatened to consume him, he reached for his trusty knife, its gleaming blade catching the light with a wicked glint. In a swift and decisive motion, he plucked the blade from the table and swiftly rose to leave.

     In a full attire of black, tailored to his favoured tight style, he mounted his powerful steed. He found solace in the beat of hooves beneath him, the wind whipping through his hair, and the freedom of the open woods. The night blurred around him as he embraced the raw power between his muscular thighs, the pounding of hooves in tune with the relentless beat of his heart. Relishing in his masculinity, the core of his very essence radiated like an unyielding flame.

   In the saddle, he found release from the encroaching emotions, the turmoil dissipating with every stride. For in the thrill of the ride, he rediscovered his true self, a warrior unchained. With each passing mile, the weight upon his shoulders lightened, replaced by a sense of unyielding purpose and unbreakable spirit. He was a spectre of untamed strength and resilience as he cut through the trees. Alone and free, the darkness of the night was his sanctuary.

     In the moonlight's embrace, he came to a stop atop a cliff. He stood, commanding and alluring. Gazing upon his dark kingdom from the cliff's edge, his eyes held a magnetic allure. The wind whispered through his hair, carrying the scent of earth and wildflowers. In the moonlit stillness, a piercing scream tore through the air, carried by the wind. Swift as a coursing wind, he swiftly turned his horse, galloping towards the desperate cries and the distant echoes of snarling wolves. As he arrived, a scene unfolded before his eyes—a courageous woman wielding a flaming branch, fiercely fending off a pack of ravenous wolves. Clinging to her petite frame, a terrified young girl sought refuge from the encroaching danger. The woman fought valiantly, her every swing a testament to her determination to protect her child and herself. Yet, the relentless hunger of the wolves fuelled their relentless advance, undeterred by the flickering flames. Decisively, Aegnor unsheathed his knife from his belt and galloped toward them.

    The fair-haired woman stared up at the elf in bewilderment as he looked with a menacing glint in its eyes. The pack's leader made its final advance, seeking an opportunity to strike. In a swift, ferocious motion, it lunged and clamped its jaws around the woman's leg, bringing her to the ground. Just as despair began to creep in, a thunderous presence emerged. Aegnor astride his powerful grey mare, crashed into the predator, trampling it beneath her hooves. The wounded wolf yelped and whimpered, while the rest of the pack turned their attention towards the valiant steed. As the maiden held her child close, she witnessed a mesmerizing display of elven skill. One by one, Aegnor deftly dispatched the wolves as they leapt toward his horse, their fates sealed by his unwavering prowess. The pack gradually dwindled, and the remaining wolves, sensing defeat, swiftly retreated into the shadows, leaving behind a scene of triumph and survival.

   The woman continued her bewildered gaze now mixed with caution, her eyes searching for answers. In a moment of profound connection, their eyes met, and an unspoken understanding passed between them. With deliberate grace, the elf dismounted his majestic horse, his every movement suffused with a quiet strength. As he sheathed his knife, the air around them seemed to hold its breath, brimming with anticipation.

    "I heard your distress, lady," he said calmly, his voice carrying a soothing reassurance as he approached them with measured steps. "I came to lend you aid!" Even as his words hung in the air, she swiftly drew a small knife, her grip firm and resolute, holding it towards him.

   Aegnor instinctively raised his hands, a gesture of peace and understanding. Her wide, alert eyes remained fixed on him, filled with a mix of caution and determination, as she stoically shielded her frightened fair-haired daughter, clutching her tightly against her body. Nodding in understanding, Aegnor took a step back, respecting the boundaries she had set. "I know you are wary of me, my only wish is to ensure your safety. Now that the threat has been extinguished, I leave you in peace and be content to guard you from afar."

   With a deep bow, he turned to depart, accepting his role as a guardian from a distance.

   "Wait!" Her voice, calm and sweet, called out to him. Aegnor paused, his movements slow and deliberate, as he turned to face her once more. "Do you have any food?" she trembled, her voice carrying a vulnerable plea. Aegnor blinked, his face twisting with confusion and concern.

   "We have not eaten in many, many days, say for a few berries," she added weakly, her large round eyes glistened with desperation and sadness.

  "My daughter," she turned her head to the young, terrified girl who clung to her dress behind her, "She is so very hungry, If you had anything to spare, please, kindest lord, would you give it?" Her plea was heartfelt, her gaze filled with a mix of hope and despair. Aegnor's face melted with raw compassion for her. His eyes shifted to the child, noticing her small and malnourished body, the weight of sadness in her young eyes. He knew she spoke the truth. Aegnor's heart burst with sadness for the woman and her daughter. The depths of their hardship was clear to him. He had to help them.

   "I am afraid, I do not possess anything that can be consumed, but...Can you trust my word that I will return here shortly?"

    Uncertain, but sensing the genuine care in his voice, the woman slowly nodded. 

  "Please, wait here!" he urged, his words carrying a sincere plea for their faith in him. Aegnor swiftly mounted his horse and vanished into the depths of the night. Leaving her behind to contemplate her trust in him. Though a stranger he was to her, she knew of the compassionate nature of elves and placed her trust in him.

    Seated by the crackling fire and makeshift shelter she had made with her daughter, the woman anxiously awaited the return of the elf.  Finally, in the distance, the distinct sound of hooves grew louder, drawing closer to their secluded sanctuary. Standing up with her knife in hand, she readied herself to bravely challenge the approaching rider. Her tension, however, immediately quelled when she saw Aegnor emerge from the shadows, his silhouette clad in all black attire, only the golden glow of his hair served as a beacon of recognition. Dismounting gracefully, Aegnor lifted a young fawn he had prepared for her. He gently placed it at the woman's feet and backed away.

   She dropped her knife from her trembling hand, the metallic thud echoing in the stillness of the night. Tears streamed down her face, their salty trails bearing witness to the overwhelming emotions coursing through her. Her gaze fixed on Aegnor, a mix of confusion, desperation, and gratitude etched upon her features.

  "Why did you do this?" she implored, her voice quivering with emotion as her eyes filled with tears. "You repelled the wolves and now you  provide for us when you have no obligation to us!" She gave in to weeping and her fragile tears soaked the grass, her sobs echoing softly.

 "Why?" She cried

   Aegnor's gaze fell upon the woman, his heart heavy with pity.

  "You have a child in your care, I have the skills to help. If I had done nothing, her suffering would go on, please," He begged her, "please just take it, and be well!"

   She sobbed loudly, both in heartfelt grief and relief. Hearing her mother's cries, the young girl burst from behind the up turned sheet and ran to comfort her mother. Aegnor stood motionless, helplessly watching them weep. Unable to establish his next move.

   "Kind lord. You have saved us from the brink of starvation!" She whimpered, drying her tears. "Lord, eat with us! Allow us to repay you somehow! Please!" She begged

   Aegnor reluctantly agreed. Forced to abandon his vaunted elven pride. The threesome sat around the small fire. Aegnor observed the young woman and her small daughter devouring the cooked tender meat with ravenous hunger.

   It was a feast fit for a king, and he couldn't help but find relief in their enthusiasm of finally eating a decent meal. The warm glow casting dancing shadows on their faces. She offered him a morsel of the tender venison, her eyes sparkling with appreciation. Aegnor reluctantly took it from her hand out of sheer politeness and nibbled tiny bites away.

   "I know you are an elf, but you are unlike any we have seen," the fair woman said, her smile kind and sincere. Aegnor looked at her, his eyes curious as he took in her words.

   "What do we normally look like?" he asked, a playful smile gracing his lips. She chuckled softly, her laughter carrying a touch of fondness. "What I mean is that I know you are different somehow. There is a regal presence that you carry, unlike any simple elf we have known."

   Aegnor's gaze met hers, his expression softening as he studied every inch of her face. He found himself intrigued by the strength and resilience he saw within her.

   "We travel a lot, my mother and I," the little girl, Petaril, chimed in, her voice filled with innocence. "We meet many elves on our journeys!" She exclaimed proudly.

   Her mother smiled. "Petaril has grown well versed in the language," her voice grew tender as she affectionately tucked a rebellious strand of hair behind her daughters ear.

   "Gin suilon, man i eneth gin," Petaril proudly declared. Aegnor released a charming smile upon her.

    "That is impressive. However, I am not of the Sindar. Therefore, the dialect is not my own," he replied, his voice warm and gentle. Petaril paused, casting her head down briefly, her disappointment evident. Just as Aegnor worried he had caused her upset, she raised her eyes again to meet his, determination shining through.

   "Anar culuva tielyanna!" she proclaimed

   Aegnor's wide grin exploded, and he softly clapped his hands, his eyes aglow with delight. "I knew you were Noldor!" She cried, her eyes shining with glee.

   "It is rare that we encounter a Noldorin elf, but for one to have such fair locks like yours, It must be a novel thing indeed." The mother responded

    "The last time we saw a Noldorin elf, it was when father -"

    "Petaril!" Her mother's urgent whisper cut through the air, halting her mid-sentence. Petaril fell immediately quiet, her words left hanging upon the wind, unspoken. The weight of the interruption cast a shadow over their light-hearted conversation. Sensing the tension, Aegnor's curiosity was further ignited, his desire to know more burning within him. The woman, her face tinged with embarrassment, offered a sheepish smile to Aegnor, her eyes betraying a hint of sadness.

   "Please forgive us, " she said softly, her voice carrying a weary tone. "It has been an exceedingly long and draining day, and we shouldn't burden you with our troubles."

    Petaril yawned, and her mother gently bid her goodnight. Before going to the tent, she sweetly approached the elf, asking him for an embrace. Touched, he warmly accepted, opening his arm. She came to him immediately as he wrapped his arm around her tiny frame. She thanked him for the meal, her voice filled with gratitude. Aegnor trembled slightly as the gentleness of this sweet girl warmed him so greatly.  She turned and retreated to the comfort of the upturned sheet that sheltered them from his view, followed by her mother, leaving Aegnor behind at the fire.

    Aegnor's gaze lingered on their shadowy shapes through the moonlight that illuminated the thin sheet. He watched as she sweetly settled her daughter in and caressed her head tenderly like doting mother would, a deep longing stirred within him. And he felt the sadness well up inside. The sadness he had been running from his entire life had finally caught him, and he hastily wiped a tear from his eye just as she was returning to him. Settling down beside him. They sat alone together with nothing but the cracking fire between them.

   "Where is the father?" Aegnor finally asked, his words laced with curiosity and caution. Her gaze fixed heavily upon him, her eyes hardened with pain. There was a lingering moment of silent exchange between them, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging in the air. Finally, her expression softened, and her face relaxed. In that soft gaze, Aegnor could see the raw vulnerability that emanated from her. Masked by a blanket of inner strength that she had been forced to hold up.

    "If you truly wish to know the answer to that question, then you must first answer mine," she spoke firmly but softly. Aegnor nodded, deeming her terms as fair. "Just who are you?" she asked. Aegnor's gaze lingered, his eyes searched into her very soul.

    "Aegnor is my name, I hail from the noble  house of Finarfin. These lands belong to us. My brother Angrod and I," he answered, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity.

   "So, you are no common elf, but a prince. I knew there was something different about you," she whispered to herself, a smile gracing her lips.

    "May I inquire your name, my lady?" Aegnor asked gently

    "Marùel," she whispered, her voice laced with calm strength. Her eyes shimmered with a hint of wonder as they remained fixed upon the mesmerizing dance of the flames.

    "It seems I must answer yours now, though it pains me to do so," she trembled. Aegnor waited patiently for her to continue. "Petaril's father... was a very evil man, he haunted my every night," she confessed, her voice trailing off as she recalled the anguish. "He subjected me to his cruel hands, inflicting pain and misery upon me. One day, I found the courage to escape. I never looked back. I set foot upon this path, not knowing how to hunt, fish, or fight, but believing that a wilderness teeming with snarling wolves held less terror than another day looking into his eyes. While he slept, I took my daughter and left, leaving everything behind in search of a new life, and so, here we are," her voice tinged with sadness, as she wiped away a tear that clung to the corner of her eye.

   His gaze softened as he met her eyes, a shared understanding passing between them. A long silence passed between as Aegnor considered his words carefully, his nerves palpable in the air.

   "I too am searching, I live upon a hope to reunite with a dear friend I lost," he admitted, his voice heavy with loneliness and longing. With a loud sigh, he drew a knee up to his chest. "I made a solemn vow to protect her, to be her guardian." he continued, his gaze transfixed upon the flickering flames. "But now..." he sighed, looking into the void surrounding them. "In this vast world without her, it suddenly seems so...empty,"

    In the quietude that followed, the crackling fire seemed to lend its own voice to his words, as if echoing the depth of his emotions. Releasing his vulnerability to this kind lady, who listened with sincere understanding, lifted a weight he had been carrying for so long. Aegnor felt a tinge of peace within him, mingling with the warmth of the firelight. He bared his heart and the weight of his purpose to the silent night.

    "I suppose we are all in search of something," she replied, her rich voice, gentle as summer rain. "Some pursuits are grand, while others may seem small. Yet, they all propel us forward, urging us onward in our journey," she added, her eyes fixed upon. A lingering stare of mutual admiration and respect hung between them.

     In her gaze, Aegnor found affirmation and a renewed sense of purpose, as if their encounter held a deeper significance beyond mere chance.

    "Aegnor, I believe you were meant to find me and my daughter tonight. I can not explain it, but deep within me, I truly believe it."

     Aegnor's eyes danced, sparkling with new purpose, mirroring her sentiment. A strong connection formed between them in that moment. "I know you are a kind and good man, and when you pave your journey, do so with love in your heart." She reached out and gently touched his arm. "I hope you find what you are seeking," she smiled at him sweetly.

    She retreated, rising gracefully to her feet. She to lay down next to her daughter behind her makeshift shelter. The bond between mother and child is warm and true. The weariness of their journey weighed upon her, and soon her breathing steadied into the peaceful rhythm of sleep.

     Aegnor remained by the fire. He watched over them as he kept the flames alive. A silent guardian, ensuring their safety and warmth throughout the night. For once, Aegnor felt peace, a calming relief from the angry bitterness he had grown so accustomed to. As the warm sun rose above the horizon, its gentle rays bestowed a tender kiss upon Aegnor's cheeks. With the flames still alight, he ventured into the surrounding woods to gather more wood, a gentle smile gracing his lips. The forest floor was abundant with plentiful sticks, and he collected them with ease, their earthy scent mingling with the crisp morning air.

    Just as he prepared to make his way back, a beautiful object caught his eye—a delicate white flower, its silken petals unfurled in a full display of exquisite beauty beneath the sunlight's caress. Aegnor carefully plucked the flower, envisioning the joy it would bring to Marùel and her daughter. An unfamiliar sensation of elation surged through him, filling his heart with a newfound sense of bliss. Mounted on his horse, he rode with a sense of anticipation through the leafy embrace of the surrounding trees, his spirit buoyed by the enchanting morning that his bright, unyeilding smile could not contain. To avoid startling Marùel and the peacefully slumbering Petaril, he dismounted some distance away from their camp, carrying the gathered wood with him for the duration of the journey.

   As the camp came closer, Aegnor's smile grew wider with each passing step, eager to greet his new companions and share the beauty of the morning with them. Approaching the shelter, Aegnor's steps slowed as a figure emerged from within. His smile vanished, replaced by a look of alarm. A large, imposing man crept out from behind the upheld sheet, a foreboding sight. The man's scowl deepened, transforming into a deadly glare as he locked eyes with Aegnor, his gaze brimming with menace, a large scar cracked his ugly face Gripped by unease, Aegnor's fingers involuntarily released their hold on the wood, causing it to fall to the ground with a resounding thud, the sticks scattering at his feet.

   "Who are you?" The man snarled, his voice like a choke of sand. Seeing the knife in his hand, Aegnors eyes filled with unrelenting rage.

   "Where are they!?" Aegnor roared. The man staggered toward Aegnor, his movements hindered by a heavy limp. His eyes blazed with fury, and in his hand, he clutched a knife. As the man drew nearer, Aegnor's voice thundered in a roar, laced with desperation and fury, "What did you do to them!?"

    In one deadly swing, Aegnor unsheathed his blade and severed the man's head clean from his body. The lifeless form crumpled to the ground while the detached head rolled away. As his wrath subsided, Aegnor's approached the sheet, shielding Petaril and Marúel from his view. He hesitated, knowing that beyond its threshold lay a scene of unspeakable horror. He witnessed the blood pour out from the sides, a gruesome confirmation of his most feared outcome. The courage to peer on the other side eluded him, his heart wrenching with the weight of horror. Whimpering, Aegnor turned away, his body trembling as he collapsed to his knees. Uncontrollable sobs burst from him as he knelt. His tears soaking into the earth. He outwardly mourned the loss of his dear friend, the pain of the tragedy overwhelming his spirit. Eternally burdened by the shattered fragments of hope.

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Valinor

Year of the Trees

   As the night cast its inky veil, a relentless search for the missing young prince unfolded. The king's guards, accompanied by torches and mounted on swift horses, scoured the trails, led by Finarfin, Aegnor's father, and members of the royal household. Hope mingled with trepidation in their hearts as they combed the land, and then, a guard's voice shattered the stillness of the night, carrying the words they yearned to hear. Finarfin, his eyes etched with worry, hastened towards the indicated direction, dismounting from his horse. He ran toward the small, hooded figure, huddled by a bank at the top of a waterfall, the splashes from his royal armour making ripples across the stream. He called out to his son. An adolescent Aegnor, his face concealed by a large hood, except for a few strands of golden hair peeking through, remained silent. A poignant pause enveloped them before Aegnor finally spoke, his voice laden with pain.

 ("They said I was unworthy... a filthy vermin,") The voice broke through the tense silence. Finarfin etched closer to the crouched, hooded figure ("You were right,") The fragile cry of a deeply wounded soul echoed from the shadow of the hood. ("You tried to warn me... and I did not listen!")

    ("Oh, my son,") the deep, velvet murmur of his father replied. His cloud grey eyes filled with trepidation. Leaning over him, Finarfin extended his hand and grasped Aegnors hood. Immediately,  Aegnor also grabbed it, stopping his father from pulling it back, but eventually surrendered and allowed his hood that had concealed his despair to be pulled away. Bloodied cuts on his son's face greeted his sight coupled with an unsightly chunk of severed golden hair, dangling and flaying unceremoniously in the breeze

    A torrent of emotions surged through Finarfin's being. Aegnor, his dirty face streaked with blood and tears, saw the look in his father's eyes as the weight of what his son had endured crashed upon him. With a guttural cry, Aegnor's gaze shattered into a storm of tears.

   ("They cut my hair!") Aegnor wailed. His sharp cry cutting into Finarfin's ears.

   Without hesitation, he embraced Aegnor, pulling the young elf into his body. Aegnor came willingly into his fathers arms, relishing in the protection of comfort only a father's love could provide. The anguish in his heart for his son's mournful plight fuelling his desire to right the wrongs inflicted upon his son. 

   ("They will not escape the consequences of their actions, Aegnor,") Finarfin vowed, Gently, he brushed away the tears from Aegnor's cheeks, and his touch conveying tenderness and loving care. ("But first, my concern is for you. Come, I am taking you home.")

   Guiding Aegnor with a gentle gesture, Finarfin led him towards the waiting guards, their expressions a mix of concern, relief, and sincere compassion for their young master. The young prince, battered and scarred, willingly followed his father's lead, allowing himself to be hoisted onto the back of his father's horse. The party of soldiers left that fateful place that had witnessed Aegnor's tears. He returned home, safe within the confines of home and the warmth of his family. His heart carried the scars of that fateful day, forever etched reminders of his resilience. In the sanctuary of the elven palace, Aegnor would heal, nurtured by those who surrounded him, forever transformed. As he grew, he came to be wary and distrustful. His innocence shattered with the sweetness of his nature, an aspect of his former self that his mother greatly mourned. He excelled in his martial studies, for never again would he allow himself or anyone else to endure such torment as he did that day. The wounds to his body would heal, but the scars upon his spirit would shape him into a different path.