Disclaimer: No matter how much I wish it to be so: not mine!
Summary: Some Elves pity Men for their passing; I've grown to pity them for their perfection.
The Gift to Men
Growing up amongst the Elves, I want to be one of them. Elflings were forever teasing me, for I was, and still am, human and they thought me inferior to them. Elves are eternal, Men are not. I scorned the gift of men, hated my kind and many a day wondered why my family loved me. How could such perfect beings love something as clumsy and imperfect as a human?
But now I know better. Some Elves pity Men for their passing; I've grown to pity them for their perfection.
It can be thought strange that I pity Elves, for who would not want to be perfect? I for one, do not anymore.
Bittersweet will be my passing for my wife, perfect in every way. The Evenstar, born into perfection, chose 'The Doom of Men', mortality, for me. Though she's fading from what she used to be, perfection is still in her every movement and though I try to explain, she can never quite understand the true gift of mortality.
Elves, born into perfection, never truly can feel the pride of accomplishment. It is not in their nature, for they know they can do anything perfectly and there is no surprise in succeeding.
That is why I pity the Elves. Never will they find joy in succeeding or know the value of trying. They know not disappointment, for there are but very few things an Elf will not be able to do.
I pity Elves, for they'll never know the anticipation of sneaking up on someone, the disappointment in being caught, betrayed by the sound of their footsteps, for they have non. Never will they know the art of persistence, the game that can be found in trying again and again, nor will they ever truly see the pride in the eyes of the ones that care when finally succeeding in doing something first thought in possible.
I still remember the pride in my father's eyes when I managed to sneak up on him, surprise him with my sudden presence, or that of my brothers when I first managed to make my arrow find mark. How could I forget the joy of my father when I returned from a hunting trip without as much as a scratch?
Also an Elf has time to see everything, learn until they know everything there is to be known, but what then? There are only so many times you can read something before it gets boring, for you know it by heart. There is only so many times to can do something before the motion becomes so automatic that the mind is free to wonder without faltering the movements of the body. And then the sailing to Valinor, a new land, new things to see, to learn, to do, but again, if you have all eternity and more, what joy is there to be found after the ages spend there?
For Men there is only so much to see, so much to learn, before their time runs out. They know what it is to wish, but not get. The longing is what keeps life interesting. Some may think life is boring, but no life can ever be as boring as that of an Elf. Men can live life to the fullest and still have not accomplished everything they wanted. They will always have a goal they cannot reach, something to keep life interesting.
Many think the Gift of Men means death, but I know better; the Gift of Men is to live.
Tyelde
A/N: Hope you liked it. This is a birthday present for my friend Rosa. She's turning 18 today (16 August). Please review and tell me what you think.
