Quendilindalë (The Song of the Elves) [Tolkien Elf FanFic - Age of the Stars]

A Battle Won

Tindómiel found her way home, exhausted from her mostly one-sided conversation with Treebeard, touching other trees along the way. They all had their own voices, although none were as clear as his, maybe there was something to his denial of being a tree, afterall. Strange that he considered himself a him, she had never thought to assign genders to trees. This trip had certainly been queer.

She arrived home bursting with joy to share this news with Lómion, maybe she had found her purpose! Speaking with plants probably wasn't something the village really needed, but as far as she knew, it was a special talent none others shared and it might have a practical purpose. As she stepped out from under the eaves of the forest, she noticed the central fire was burning and many of her people seemed to be gathered around it. This looked important. She supposed her news would have to wait.

The entire village was huddled closely to the fire, Tindómiel snaked through the shadows and found a place within the outskirts of the gathering. Father Tata was there standing in a position of authority. However, she had arrived too late for his message, everyone began to disperse almost as she arrived. Strangely, there was no chatter as they made their way back to their shelters. Usually any large announcement would be discussed and thoroughly analyzed as the group retired, but everyone had disappeared under their shelters somberly. She began picking her way back out of the circle toward her shelter, surely Lómion would have returned by now and would have witnessed the announcement, she would find him there when he returned from the meeting. Father Tata would not share news with a large group of hunters away. Unless that news was about the hunting party. Tindómiel realized she had not seen any of the hunting party at the meeting. Oh no! Certainly nothing had happened to Lómion! Tindómiel, overcome with worry sprinted to their secluded settlement.

There was no fire burning; panic settled to a dead weight in the pit of her stomach. Lómion always set a smaller fire for their quiet enjoyment in the eventt she wanted to slip away from the bustle of the village, she was always more reclusive than Lómion. Warily, she approached their shelters, still seeing no sign of him. "Tindómiel?" a quiet voice came from Lómion's shelter. Now that she was aware of it, she could see his slight glow in the darkness, in the back of his shelter. Lómion was reclined against the branches, his chiseled face twisted in pain. She stooped under the branches and sat down beside him. Some of the roughspun tunic she had made for him had been ripped away and tied about his upper arm, parts were soaked through with his life's blood.

"Oh! It is as I feared!" she lamented, "you have taken hurt! That is why you sit in the shadows. What of the rest of the party? Have they suffered some ill fate? Father Tata was speaking to the whole village earlier..."

Lómion placed his good hand over her rosebud lips to stop her words, "Nay, lady. I am the only one taken hurt. Father Tata returned from his meeting with the other fathers. Imin has received a message: it is time to move, more Quendi awake."

She gingerly touched his injured arm, "Surely we will not follow. You are injured. You need to heal."

"We must. You know as well as I that we cannot forge a living on our own. As you say, I am injured. I cannot hunt for us," he grimaced as the pain shot down his arm.

"At least let me see to this," she said, slowly reaching toward the bandage. When he did not recoil, she began to gently unwrap the stained cloth. The wound was deep, but had stopped bleeding. "Oh sweetling..."

Lómion gasped at the touch of the cold air on his wound, "It was a great buck. We brought him down and we will have much food for the journey. I am lucky it is a superficial wound and will not prevent me from travelling. Please do not trouble yourself, Lady. It could have been a worse hurt, already I heal."