Death isn't anything like they try to say it is. They say you see a flash of light and then you are in the hall of judgement. No, I remember my death quite clearly. My friends were gathered around my bed as I told the nurse to turn off life support. I had known I wouldn't live without it, but I wanted to finally be done with it. After all, I was stubborn. If I was going to die, it would be on my terms. Not my illnesses terms. I remembered the world going hazy, and the heart monitor going flat, and the world faded into darkness to the noise of my friends sobbing. There wasn't a lash of light. There was just darkness. It was warm. Not the warmth of a blanket, but more like that comfortable heat of a hot shower, only all over my body.
At first, I saw and heard nothing. There was just silent, dark heat. Then, I began to hear a loud thumping. A Loud, unbearable thumping. Then voices. Gruff, surly voices faded in and out of my senses. "...don't know why you want to keep it. It's an elf spawn..."
"...my child...love it no matter..."
"...not natural!..."
The course voices practically shouted at one another. Then it was just constant chatter in a crude language I didn't understand. I honestly began to make sense after a while. I continuously tried to speak, but no sound came from me. It took a while, but soon, I was able to thrash about. This caused shouts of surprise. I thought maybe I had struck a nurse, but I wasn't sure. I couldn't feel anything. After I settled down, everything seemed to go well. Until my space began to be confined. I couldn't thrash around anymore. I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. It was getting too tight. I began to panic. What's going on? Am I being crushed? Am I in hell? The feeling of being confined only intensified, until it became unbearable. Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, there came squeezing. And if my senses weren't on overload before, they were once the screaming began.
Then my head felt less pressure. For the first time in what felt like forever, I opened my eyes. It was strange because I never thought they were closed. When they opened, I felt like I was blinded. It was so bright! I let out a wail, only to come up short. The first thing hat registered was that I could finally speak. The second, my voice was so high pitched. Like an infant.
I sucked in a startled breath. It wasn't long before I could see clearly, and noticed something strange. I was surrounded by giant hairy men with beards. Or at least, I thought they were men until one of them started nursing me. Before I could think to push away, I had latched. What the hell is going on? Who are these people? Where am I?
I finally looked down at myself. I was tiny. And pudgy. No. No. Nononononononono. I already had such a short life. I don't want to do this all over again! And I don't want to become all hairy! I looked up at my new mother. Aside from the beard, she was kind of pretty.
I had no concept of time at first. I just noticed that I didn't age as fast as other children. But as I grew, I learned about my new, primitive world. In this world, Dwarves existed. So did Elves and Men. I had learned that Dwarves ad Elves did not get along as a rule. Maybe it was learning that. Maybe it was the strange, jittery look my mother would get when she glanced at me if someone would utter about 'damned elves'. Maybe it was the mistrustful looks I garnered from other Dwarves when I toddled behind my younger siblings who were already in their 'teens' at fifty or so years. Maybe it was the fact that my mother always made sure my curly locks covered my pointed ears. Maybe it was the pitying looks my younger siblings always gave me. Or the looks of disgust my father always threw my way when he was near. Maybe it was everything at once. Whatever the case, something told me I didn't belong with these people.
It was the year I turned one hundred that I noticed my siblings were fully grown whilst I looked like a five year old human. My mother was aging. In fact, it was the eve on my birthday that I was dragged by wrist away from the village by my little brother, Stern, into a clearing.
"You will have to learn to fend for yerself, Fagre." He practically growled at me. "Mam's gettin' old, and Stierne cannot take care of you."
I stared at my brother, trying to understand where this whole thing was going.
"I'm gonna teach you how to fight. We both know you won't be able to stay in this village once mam passes on. You'll be cast out. Yer elven blood is what angers them." His gruffness almost felt hostile. It made me afraid. I could always feel the hate and anger from the others in the village. But in that moment, I realized why mother always acted as if I were Satan spawn. I was the equivalent of devil spawn. I was half Elf.
The next day, I was gifted with a bow, a quiver full of arrows, and a dagger. That was also the day I began my lessons on survival. That night, my little body was covered in bruises, cuts and scrapes. I cried myself to sleep.
It was forty five years later that my mother died of illness. Stern housed me during my mourning period, but cautioned me to stay away from the windows, and to stay inside. It was a year after that Stern came into my room one evening, and threw a messenger bag full of provisions. I looked to him with a tear stained face, and saw his grim expression.
Under the cover of night, I left my home village on a pony, never to see my family again. I had enough monies to be able to buy foods should I pass a village, a map of all of Arda, a pot and pan to make my own food, a wooden bowl, plate, cup and utensils, and a filled water skin. Clothed in a brown tunic and grey pants stuffed in blackened leather boots, I made for the cover of the forest nearby. I had begun to see my new life as a curse in the early days of my life. But that night, as I looked up into the sky through tear hazed eyes, I cursed the very powers that gave me this new miserable life. My heart heavy, I began my journey.