Act II, Part VI: Wanderings in Wilderland
Parting with the ring Thangrîm had come easy to Tinnurion but knowing it had worked its evil upon his relations with the Dwarves troubled him greatly. Being no longer welcome in the kingdom of Khazad-dûm, he left Nanduhirion and wandered northward, deep into Wilderland, and of all his lengthy wanderings this would be his longest. For whilst his feet carried him to places unseen, they did so without belonging or intent, and only under cover of night would he let them guide him onwards, with the watchful stars at him gazing and an utter silence in unwavering pursuit.
From mountains high dressed in winter's blanket, to low wetlands and vast meadows covered in autumn's embrace, and through many scented springs and starlit summers he roamed without purpose, and without end until at long last his journey brought him solace in the form of a great forest which then bore the name Eryn Galen, for this was the home of the Silvan Elves, where Oropher was Lord and King. And Tinnurion was malcontent, for whilst he had learned to love the wild, it seemed that whenever the wild became most pleasing, it ended in the realm of some king. But he was weary now with wandering, and Oropher and his people lived mostly down south at Amon Lanc, so that Tinnurion settled for a small and hidden dwelling near the mountains of Greenwood the Great. Here they took to great labour, using whatever the forest and the mountains would offer them in materials, and they built a house with comforts the like which they had not enjoyed in a great length of time. And when their work was finished, they looked upon the house they built and they were pleased. But then suddenly the effort of their long journey finally caught up with them and they fell into a deep slumber.
When Tinnurion woke he smiled, for his slumber had been long and without pause, and waking to the memory of a roof above his head was all the sweeter now that he saw what they had wrought ere they slept. It was a tall house, a hall in size, made from stone and wood and supported by the trees of the forest. He walked through the house with hands raised and he laughed, something he had near forgotten how to do, and his companions also rejoiced, so much that they formed the first song in many years, and it lasted till the break of day and beyond it, and all again was full of promise.
In time they would continue their work upon the house so that it would become fairer still, though ever dimmed as they liked it, and by tree and rock it was hidden from sight, so that they need not fear discovery even by such eyes as the Silvan Elves’. As their home lay not far removed from the Old Dwarf Road that ran through the forest, Tinnurion invited Dwarven travellers to his home. And they mended the stone where they had marred it and polished floor and roof, though they did so only for the promise of payment.
As the work progressed, the memory of such comfort brought back other memories keen for exploring, and Tinnurion turned his thought to his master of old for whom they had built a house quite like it. But as he tried to remember Eöl’s face, he could not, no matter how long he pondered it, and it seemed as if through the wisps of time it had been lost to him. He felt so ashamed, for other things he could still see so clearly, as if with waking eyes he beheld them. Therefore, he relayed all what he could to the Dwarves and he beckoned them to sculpt a statue of his master upon an altar in the hall, but he bade them also to sculpt him hooded and without face and so they did.
From that day forward Tinnurion vowed to keep the memory of his old master, and in the keeping of that memory he found new purpose: he would be the steward of Eöl’s memory. And thus it happened that after many centuries of wandering he had a sense of belonging and he could speak once more of home.
