((Note: I have started using words found in the Parf Edhellen dictionary in the Laurelin Resources, particularly primitive elvish and Qenya words. They sound most Avari like. Regarding grammar or words that are considered to be 'no longer applicable', oh well.))
Braigion shifted on the branch he was sleeping on. Oh, Imladris is so much different than the first time. Being chased, hounded at…well, the elfling he had met surely did not help in that endeavor. The Avar muttered something, face slightly contorting as a dream progressed…
A time in the age before the sun and moon…
“Get back here, you cowardly, stupid, selfish, kwenda!”
That is certainly a good way to welcome back a wayward kinsman! It is not like they are prone to do that anyway. Braigion ran from one edge of the settlement to the other from new foes, tripping over some baskets, disrupting some of the women from whatever they were doing, and just catching some attention from the sentinels. The chase went to the outskirts of the camp, and at last, the two other Avari that had distaste for their leader’s youngest child, tackled Braigion. The sentinels did not manage to separate the three of them, and the poor elf that was hardly beyond majority was being ripped to shreds by bites and scratches*. The sentinels had to reserve to smacking rocks against the two Avari mauling their prince by their heads to get them to stop. Two dragged the unconscious bunch away to the forest for whatever punishment awaited, and a third hauled a shaken Braigion to his feet.
“I-I merely have to exist!” he sputtered out, “W-what ill have I done?”
“This should be reserved to your conceivers, kundō Hilumrekjā.” The sentinel took note that her prince looked to where his attackers were taken, “Worry not…they will be taken care of, and I will report this incident to your Atū.”
Braigion felt ashamed at that, but he was not prepared to be greeted so coldly by those two, especially since he had been among his own again for at least a week. He had made up his mind to be wary of them…Braigion sighed ; he is a worthless and cowardly thing.
Inside the main hut…
Braigion observed his father, sister, and the sentinel that brought him in from afar while his mother tended to his lacerations. He always admired his sire whenever things must be discussed; wearing long furs and leather enhanced by shiny objects, and a crown with antlers. The face paint also added to the effect. Braigion’s sister also was “regal” to look at too, since she was the eldest, and took their mother’s place whenever she was busy…in this case tending to the little brother.
“They might become a problem, kherū…”
“Set guard on them in the forest…perhaps they might learn how to work together if they must scavenge to survive; and are forced to mingle less both die...”
“But kherū, what of the urkur? They are getting closer, and in bigger numbers I might add…No one has been stolen yet, but kidnappings might begin soon.”
“Round up the surveyors then!”
Braigion flinched at the raised voice, and the sentinel was immediately away. Whatever his sire said to his sister, the ellon never knew.
“What did I do?” he finally asked his mother.
“You did nothing…as far as I know.”
“Exist, apparently!”
“Ahem.”
Braigion’s head shot up hearing his father, and he cowered slightly, dreading what might come.
The steel grey eyes watched in silence for a bit, “What trouble did you cause to get them riled up?”
Braigion made a face, “Exist.”
“Surely that is not all, is it, Hilumrekjā?”
Braigion hated the slippery snake like tone his sire pulled whenever he wanted to know something. The elf examined the situation carefully; he wasn’t doing anything…bad back there, but it was not a good act either.
“Exactly.” Came the solemn voice.
“No wrong was being done…”
“Except you left; we thought you dead for the last twenty cycles, my youngest. I expect nothing less that some might resent you.”
“I came back, though!” Braigion cried out.
“Enough.” His sire frowned, “I will devise some form of adequate “reward” for the matter and for your behavior.”
Braigion was slapped in the face emotionally, and wanted to run out of the chamber, though his mother held him back.
“It will not be as bad as you might think.” She said, “Especially since you are…wounded.”
“Why must he be so harsh?”
The elf’s mother sighed, “Threats are coming from every corner, and…let us say he is stressed. The last thing he needs is danger arising within.”
It must be hard being a chieftain…Braigion may not understand it, but he learned to respect it despite the treatment he will receive. As long as his sire still loved him…that is all that was important.
“Urkur…” he cringed, “It still hurts sometimes.” Braigion began rubbing a shoulder that healed with some bones still in fragments, making it a tad deformed.
In the tree…
“Aei…” Braigion murmured, subconsciously shifting some of the bones that healed wrong: his shoulder and a rib that bulged out slightly if someone were to see. At least no one blindly would go at someone for some deed here in the Vale…right?
Words:
Atū = father
Hilumrekjā = son wild (Braigion's more "native" name)
kwenda = elf
kundō = prince/lord
kherū = master/lord
Urku/Urkur = orc (Urkur is my guess what the plural would be)
((*= If you accept the idea that orcs came from elves...There is a good reason why Melkor would have been going after the Avari, judging by their brutish nature. It might be exaggerated, though they are still civilized and closely linked, it is simply rivalry that tends to bring out...the bad. My speculation of course. Braigion is also around 80-90 years of age in the dream, so he is technically not really a child anymore, so the thing with elves cherishing their children still applies...but, can't stay small forever, eh?))
