Nenya

by longlivelotr

Elves are not like men. We like to say that men are selfish and ignorant, that therefore they do not deserve to live long like us. But men are not less than elves, and there were times I wished I could live simple and love strong like men do. In those sleepless years I would lay wide awake as I replayed the scenes of my own life before my eyes, wanting to hate yet I could not.

1. Chapter 1 I Saw It Burning

chapter 1. I saw it burning

I feel the urge of telling the story to someone who is willing to listen. Someone who has the time to slow down and hear a sad, but beautiful tale. Someone who has the same immortality as the I do, someone who has the same endless life. Yet among the race of men exist no ears that listen but not only hear. Among the race of men exist no one who would trust and believe the lost stories of the past, of the rings, of the elves.

I stand before the grave of Arwen Undomiel, my beloved niece even though we share no similar blood. May her beauty last forever in this land. A gentle breeze picked up the scent of flowers blooming. Spring is arriving at last.

You would not remember my name, but you would remember the name of the ring that dominated my body and shared my soul. Who am I? Where am I from? What have I done? It is all remembered in the heart of the older ones in the name of Nenya.

But I am myself now, when the ring is no more. I will tell you my story now, from my eyes under the shell of ice. For you it may have started millions of years ago. For me, it was the fire that started it all.

When I was young, orcs dominated our woods. It felt like only years ago when I stood upon that hill and gazed down at the fire below along with my sister and brother. Together, we stood solemnly and listened to the cracking of woods burning and the screaming of the people in the forest below. In the distance I saw those creatures bringing down their axes and swords to the trees and people, then setting them all on fire. I saw the trees coming down one by one, first the youngest ones, then the older ones. First the willow by the stream, then the tall oaks that surrounded what once was our home. At last the fire reached the tallest and oldest tree of all, the one that stood for thousands of years before this demon fire that burnt it down to ash. It was the emblem of the people in these woods.

" Burn them all!" I heard a raspy voice ordering, " Burn down every house and tree!"

By my left I heard my sister weep and whisper, words choked with tears. My brother and I stood, gazing down at the sea of fire. Waves of heat baked my cheeks and dried my tears,and in my brother's eyes I saw flames flickering in the reflection of the burning trees. The screams quieted down to nothing but whimpers of the tree spirits, begging for water and life. I saw the fire creeping up the old tree, devouring its green leaves.

My brother turned me away and held my against his chest. I did not see the tree fall, but in his eyes I saw what he saw. A home burned to pieces. A nation falling down. We were the only survivors. I heard a crash and there was no more. The orcs were gone. Every one was silent.

I saw it burning, the fire burning my childhood to an end. The three of us survived. We were only ten winters old, only children in your eyes.