Music to listen while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=35riMhdQxn0
"Oi lad, sum beer?" said Endrain, offering the foaming mug to the elf.
Without any sound, he takes it and start drinking.
"So, would ya care for a story?" Endrain urged.
"Ya care for?" The elf responded, with his mind obviously elsewhere.
Both the man and the dwarf look at each other, while turning their attention back to the elf.
"I was... - the elf started - I were... told to be son of Ulanaar..."
The two companions listened in silence. Was? were? Was He drunk?
"I was, I believe, born somewhere near Grey Havens... never knew it exactly."
The pair was listening in silence. An elf who doesn't know his origins?
"My family was heading toward Imladris, I believe. The northmen found me crying and covered in the entrails of my mother. Of my father, only a scant drape remained."
Spits on the ground, his fists shaking in scarcely held anger.
"The men north brought me to Melluinen, where a buch of lads survived hardships on the north lands and made me grew up there. I went back and fort from Tinnudir, camps near Annuminas and Esteldin."
"So yer tellin' us ya dunno whe gave da name lad?" The dwarf asked, visibly disturbed by the tale's beginning.
Vholrat nodded.
"And by the Grace's light, you never sought answers?" The man pressured.
"Only revenge. The blood of my mother calls me each night".
The fire was cracking, sending a soothing warmth to the three warriors. The only relief in that cold night.
"And yer name lad?" Tingli requested, almost whispering.
Without sound, the warrior shows a small pendant from underneath his armor. A moon crest with two wolves, howling at the moon.
It is worn, dirty and blackened. The only remaining letters in Sindarin: v -h-o-l-r-a-t
The two companions look at the pendant. Was quite a piece back in the day, now a macabre moniker of a deprived happiness and childhood.
The Elf take the pendant back inside his armor and drinks the beer once more.
Tingli and Endrain where not asking, yet their facial expressions betrayed the lustful curiosity that adorn the tales of fireplaces like that one.
"Since when I was able to walk - the warrior pressed on - and knew of my past, I started helping the men who sheltered me without question. I owe them my life and safety, and so I shall payback. I was instructed by the Dunedain on hunting, foraging and scavenging. Eating things that southerns would deem disgusting. Mask your smell to hunt better and ambushing enemy forces where needed. Numbers never were generous with us, and yet here we endure."
"Have you tought about going south or east to explore more of this world? I betcha can make more friends!" Endrain said.
"To Mordor with that! - Exploded Vholrath - " My duty is here and I will remain until the last stone of the last fortress of the enemy is cast upon the last orc. Nothing came from South when my family was butchered. Nothing will go south till I get what I seek!"
Takes another mug of beer from the bench near the fire and drinks it in one go.
"I see ye lad but - the dwarf recited - you know what they say about vengeance? prepare to dig two graves!"
"One for the goblins and one for the orcs. sure!" The hatred barely held at bay.
Endrain raised his shoulders looking ant Tingli.
He was irredeemable.
"There is one thing I wish t'know"...
"Yes Endrain?" The inquisitive look of Vholrat felt like a cold dagger.
"What happened to your fellas when they knew about your situation? Imladris said nothing?"
Vholrat shakes his head. Nothing came. not even a letter. Nothing.
The trio did not speak. In the distance, wind howls softly, remembering the dangers of the north.
Ost Galumar was a settlement on the border with Angmar; a calm night was barely a forgotten memory. Dangers increased connstantly and raids were frequent. That night was a real blessing,
"ye'll go rest?" Says Endrain
Without speaking, the elf nod.
Disappearing into a tent, the Elf started remove his gear and change his clothes to be more comfortable for sleeping: a simple, long and green tunic.
It was akin to a ritual: wash your face, remove the gear and place yourself under the sleeping bag.
Always without answers: who were my parents? How did they look like? Why me? Shall I send all this to Mordor's pain and leave the north forever?
Sometimes it feels like a stupid and petty quarrel.
No.
They need me. I am no betrayer. I am wrath, I will not take a step back. I spit on Angmar name and their denizens,
He grabs the pendant. A soft drop on his cheek. The last symbol of pain before darkness embraces his body and oblivion takes him away from those thoughts.
