Act III, Part V: Repentance and Reprisal
Marred by memory and by grief, Tinnurion faced the cold winter nights of that year alone. Through silence and solitude he wandered the eaves of Mirkwood, gazing at the stars in great anguish, longing after days long passed.
'How do I remember those long nights when stars shone without pause. When trees stood slumbering in the tunes of forgotten songs and waters ran in eternal envy of the heavens.'
These were the thoughts of Tinnurion, and they harrowed him greatly. By night he was sometimes seen wandering about by men, a cloaked shadow gazing at them from under the trees. But neither man nor beast troubled him, and his wanderings remained undisturbed for many moons. Embalmed into a restless state, he counted days like years and would have continued to do so until there were no days left to count or until the world would crack under the weight of its own woes and all that ever was and all that could ever be would pass beyond the reach of remembrance. But something in his pocket caught his attention and woke him from his mournful being. It was a phial of pure white glass and it glimmered faintly in the dark. It had once held a cordial that he and his companions had indulged in during many more cheerful nights. And where there was one memory there were others waiting to receive him, and for a moment mourning made room for laughter. And from that laughter came resolution, for Tinnurion grew suddenly bold and filled with purpose.
He scoured woodland, plain and mountainside and filled pockets with all manner of trinkets. From the woodland and plains he gathered thistles and other herbs. From mountain rock he took white stones that nigh turned to powder in hand. From the river he gathered water and from the trees oil and resin. From men he stole a cooking pot and a ladle to stir. Then, with overflowing pockets, he retreated deep into the wood and there he brewed with devious intent. For now all his thoughts were set on vengeance.
When all was done and ready, he moved northward. Miles he walked but did not waver and when at last he passed the thorned hedge and came before the broken doors of his old house he stood still. There was a deceptive silence, but the webbing about his house would fool none. And so from his pocket he took the white phial, now filled with the very same cordial he had once brewed for his friends and he brought it to his lips. The liquor was sweet to the tongue and as he drank it he felt renewed. As his strength returned to him, he held aloft two other phials, one filled with some mixture of oil and the other larger and less inviting, filled with a white powder. With all his might he flung the phials inside and upon breaking it released violent fumes of pale white smoke which quickly spread through the hall. Small spiders were the first to crawl out of the entrance, scurrying along the woodland floor to safety. He threw two more, demoralising any that dared to come close. But then came something larger, and in its wake part of the entrance collapsed upon it. Blinded and helpless it gasped for breath, chittering violently and cursing whomsoever was the cause of it.
But bereft of shadow and exposed to daylight, even such faint light as could escape the thick foliage of Mirkwood, her threats seemed petty and her shape not as menacing as it had appeared before. It was she who now had trouble seeing the black shape standing before her. This gave Tinnurion courage, and in his hands he now held firmly the fell sword Níniolêg, the weeping thorn, and with a mighty swing he cleaved her spiked limb. She reared up in pain, opening up her belly to the fell bite of his sword, screaming:
'Curse thee Elfling! Curse thee!'
With a steady stab he pierced her and she shrieked a terrible sound before falling to the mossy floor, her legs twisted and her body curling up to a lifeless whole. And that is how she was ended.
Her children fled quickly between the trees and they would not set foot there again out of fear for the Black Elf and his poisoned sword. And the body of their mother would act as an example for the rest of them, for Tinnurion set her upon a makeshift spear before the thorned hedge. Inside he found what yet remained of his friends and so too did he find Gardbrand, the Northman he had deceived. His guilt would not be mended by it, but he gave him a burial in the ways of kings of men and dwarves, in a stone coffin with a separate hall of his house serving as his tomb.
