The face of Elrond.
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A little writing exercise I did last night. I was bored, and I needed to warm up my 133t writing skillz before tackling a larger personal writing project. ; So, um, don't look too much into it. I included the quote that inspired it, so nobody gets confused. I cannot remember which book it is in, however. Whoops.
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"The face of Elrond was ageless, neither old nor young, though in it was written the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful. His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight, and upon it was set a circlet of silver; his eyes were grey as a clear evening, and in them was a light like the light of stars. Venerable he seemed as a king crowned with many winters, and yet hale as a tried warrior in the fullness of his strength. He was the Lord of Rivendell and mighty among both Elves and Men."
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I remember the Elrond from my childhood. The Elrond that was like a father (or perhaps a not-so-crazy Uncle) to little Aragorn. He will always be in my mind as he was this one time I stepped over the line in my childish escapades.
Ah, yes, the face of Elrond. The face of an immortal. Most people would call him beautiful, looking in his eyes that seemed so sad and yet kind of cheery. But I would call him grumpy. He was grumpy – there was nothing else about it. I had just chopped down one of Rivendell's smaller blossom trees, so I suppose he had every right to be slightly irked.
But then again, I was only eleven. Not only did he have to comprehend why I would do something like cut down a tree, but where an eleven year old had gotten hold of a metre long sabre. What can I say? I was an ambitious kid.
Hale as a tried warrior in the fullness of his strength? Too right. I don't think anyone has given me chase around a garden for so long. And in a robe with 32" sleeves. I had to jump in the river before I finally got away from him, but I ended up washed to the shore like a drowned rat to him waiting anyway. Fah, some escape plan.
I thought I was in for such a telling of. I thought I was going to be made to feel guilty. I had seen other children get told off by Lord Elrond. Teary eyes and wobbly bottom lips were a constant. Instead, he took me by my collar and dragged me to a potted plant.
"What's that?" I ventured. Still I was curious.
"A tree." Said Elrond.
"Oh." I didn't like where this was going.
He drew a breath. Then he exhaled. Another pause. "I don't know why you cut down that tree. You had no right to take a life. We were not in want for fire wood, nor food, nor shelter, it was a wanton killing. But the deed was done, and you shall return what you took."
And he made me replant the tree. It blossomed two years later, and I made sure to press the first white petals and the last. Yes, a venerable king indeed.