A cry was raised through the camp. The hunters have returned.
What have they got this time? I head toward them. A smaller being gets in front of me. ' Out of my way!' I snarl, shoving him to the ground and giving him a kick before going on my way.
There are the hunters, it seems they got a good haul this time. One of the hunters, shoved from behind, stumbles and drops his load at my feet, and I glance down. The body has silver hair, a beautiful face, graceful hands. It is - was- one of the Quendi- slain by an arrow through the throat. Something flashes through my mind: laughing grey eyes, flowing silver hair. I suddenly feel as if a knife has been twisted in my throat. My stomach heaves; I turn and force my way through the press. The memories - where did they come from? get stronger. I had a family - a father and mother - and a sister - she was beautiful, with silver hair. Where are they? What happened to them? The memories are ripping through me - I feel as if I am being shredded. I start running, away from the crowd, the noise, my own thoughts. I want to run till I collapse, but something inside will not let me go too far from the others.
I am over a small hill, out of sight. I dare go no farther. A stream, faintly glistening, winds it's way round the foot of the hill. I sink to my knees beside it, lean forward and look at my reflection in the starlit water. I flinch back in disgust and bury my face in my hands.
Torture. I tremble as I remember the endless torment, screaming, pleading for mercy, recieving none. I take my hands away from my face and look at them. The left hand is missing it's first and third fingers, the right hand, it's little one. The remaining fingers are twisted and scarred.
With a shock, I remember I had a name. Elenranaro. I was once Elenranaro, and I belonged with the Quendi. What am I now? What have they made me? Do I belong anywhere?
I let my head fall back on my shoulders, and stare at the stars in agony.
