As he ran, Earendil's mind re-focused on where he was. He had just passed through the town of Riversmouth, set on the east coast of the River Running where it emptied into the lake. It was growing rapidly of late, both because land here was fertile and easily irrigated, but also because trade down the river from Erebor could be loaded onto larger boats for transport to Laketown or, they hoped soon, past Mere's End and on to destinations in the south. Crossing a highly arched stone bridge to the west shore of the river, he turned north onto a wide, smoothly paved road.

The dwarves from the Lonely Mountain had been busy here creating a broad trade route hugging the west bank of the River Running. It connected the northern edge of Long Lake to the gates of Erebor and was wide enough for strong mules to tow barges back upstream, while still allowing traffic to use the road in both directions. A low stone wall lined the river along it's entire length.

Great efforts had been made to make the road smooth and fast with large, carefully fitted flagstones paving it from end to end. Following this road, it was 13 leagues to Dale and nearly 15 to Erebor. Earendil had spent 9 hours running almost that exact distance along the east coast of the lake from South End, but it would take him just 6 more to cover the rest.

He lengthened his stride and sunk back into thought.

Night came on quickly in Mirkwood as the sun sank below the mountains to the west. Much of what little light managed to slip over the peaks was absorbed by the thick foliage and so, by the time the blue eyed elf began his tale, the sounds of night in the forest filled the air around them. Earendil had spent many nights in this forest, so this didn't worry him. He knew that farther south great spiders were common, and the danger greater, but here along the shores of the Forest River with a merry fire warming the night air, there was little to fear.

"Elves are immortal." Earendil's unnamed companion started his story without preamble. "Would you agree?"

Earendil nodded. "That's what I'm told."

The elf raised his eyebrows and nodded, "and in many ways, from the perspective of man, we are. But everything made by Eru Iluvatar will die, as only the Father is forever. Here in Middle Earth," he continued, "we elves are nearly as mortal as any other creature. If you were to take that rock down by the river," and at this the elf waved in the direction of the sound of the running water, "and while I slept, were to strike me in the head and crush my skull, my body would suffer such great damage that it could no longer contain my soul. When this happens, the soul would depart my body just as it would were I a man."

Drawing a small piece of dried meat from a pouch at his waist, the elf tore it in half and offered some to young Earendil. Both chewed for a while before the story continued. "So you see at this point, here east of the seas a man and an elf are the same, but then things change. My soul would find itself here, in this clearing, with no home left to return to, and so I would be called west to the Halls of Mandos."

"The Doomsman of the Valar," Earendil interjected.

The elf chuckled, and took another bite of his dried meat. "I'm not sure that's how he would see himself, but yes, that is he. So if I choose to follow his call to the west," the elf paused here and looked at the boy across the fire from him. "I see in your eyes the question you would ask. Yes, I could refuse to go, but what would happen to me if I chose that path is not a tale for dark nights around small campfires."

Earendil swallowed the question and allowed the elf to continue.

"So Mandos accepts the souls of all who are slain, cares for them as they overcome the loss and grief they suffered here in Middle Earth, and then when he deems it time, and when my soul feels ready, he would return me to Valinor in a body identical to the one I lost here."

"So you could return to Middle Earth?" Earendil asked.

The elf shrugged. "It was once possible, although I know of only two cases in which it happened." The elf seemed to think this over for a moment, and then continued. "Now however, Valinor is no longer part of Arda, but somewhere in the void. Elves can find there way there by sailing west, but I don't think they can return to this realm."

Sitting up, the elf twisted at the waist, stretching his back. "And so, we elves continue on until this song ends, until this creation of Eru ends, at which time an even more beautiful song will be sung which will involve all of those whose souls were a part of this creation."

"And what happens to the souls of men?"

The elf's eyes saddened, the light of the flickering campfire reflecting in them. "This is the Gift of Man. Elven souls are tied to the song, tied to Arda, and will remain here for as long as the world exists. A man's soul is independant of the world and can he chose to listen to the song, fight it, or ignore it altogether."

The boy seemed lost. "But why would he do that?"

The elf smiled ruefully. "All creatures make choices that others find incomprehensible. For a man, with only a few years on this world, he is driven to try and make as much of his life as he can in the short time he has." The thin elven figure was now sitting cross legged across from Earendil, and he leaned forward to look sternly at his pupil. "Elves will be here throughout history, will watch it change from misty thoughts, to substance, and back to mist again. But Eru has placed in the hands of man the power to make history, to guide his plan through free will, and plot it's course. Men are driven to achieve much, and to do it in the little time they are granted, and because of that, they often chose to imagine there is no song."

Earendil nodded his head. "That is as it may be," he said, "but why does it sadden you?"

"Remember when I said Mandos would call me to the Halls?" the elf asked.

Earendil nodded.

"He will do the same to you, one day. However, unlike an elf who's soul is tied to Arda, you will have no choice but to heed the call, and after your time in the Halls, you too will be sent onward."

Earendil nodded. "That is as my mother told me. But unlike you, I will not be brought back to live in Valinor."

The elf nodded sadly.

"My mother says I will move on to be with Eru, to be in His light and hear His song, the song of the creation, Ea"

Again the elf nodded. "We are not certain of this," he admitted, "and if the Valar know, they don't speak of it. But we elves believe it to be so."

And with this the young Earendil understood. "So you will live an eternity, perhaps tens of thousands of years. They will be pleasant years, with beauty and warmth, but you believe real beauty is only found in the Song, and true warmth is only felt in His light," watching the elf, Earendil could see the words hit home. "Soon, at the end of my hard, short life, I will bear witness to this, while you must wait forever, always knowing what you desire can't be yours, that you cannot be whole until creation ends."

The elf, who was looking deeply into the fire, slowly raised his face to gaze at the boy. "Those are harsh words, young master," he said quietly.

Earendil looked away, ashamed. "I am sorry."

The elf exhaled deeply. "But they are true. When I saw that you had been in the presence of the creator, had seen His light, I wanted nothing more than to feel it with you. I am ashamed to say I was jealous of you, even angry."

Earendil still couldn't look back at his companion. "This may be of little solace," the boy said softly, "but I felt recognition when I saw the light, pride that I had achieved a goal He had set for me. It was like my father would feel if I tracked an animal using skills he taught me." Now Earendil looked up, across the fire to the grim elf. "I'm certain you were placed here to teach me this, that you fulfilled your role in His plan. He is proud of you, I am sure."

The elf smiled, and then let out a short laugh. "You must be right, good lad. Why else would an elf come to be sitting in the clearing with a young human boy discussing theology?"

Earendil laughed too, and then stifled an enormous yawn. "It did seem silly," he thought. The marian tea was weighing heavily on his mind, and he looked about for his mother's pack.

"I think I must rest, my friend." Stretching out on the cool grass, Earendil laid his head on the satchel. "I hope I recall this in the morning, but whether I do or not, thank you." His eyes closed and he began slipping quickly into sleep.

"Sleep well lad," the Elf answered. "I will rest here too for the night, if you don't mind the company."

Earendil muttered something incomprehensible, and sank into a dreamless sleep.

The sun had not yet cleared the eastern trees when Earendil awoke. He knew it was still early, and he was comfortable under a blanket that someone had placed over him as he slept, so he lay for a while with his eyes closed taking in the sounds of birds and the rush of the nearby river. Presently he heard voices moving in his direction. Two of them, both elven, as they were speaking an elven dialect. He had just begun learning Sindarin from his mother, and while the words sounded familiar, he had trouble understanding the conversation.

Rolling his head towards the voices, he watched through half closed eyes as the blue eyed elf from the night before walked out of the woods near the river, moving towards him while talking with a shorter, stouter elf. This elf was talking, and Earendil heard some words he thought he knew. "Soon" or "shortly" seemed clear, along with "parents", from which he assumed his parents were almost back at camp. Staying still and listening carefully, he waited as the pair got closer. Unlike the night before, both his unknown friend and the newcomer were armed, carrying a quiver on their hips, a spear in one hand, and a bow in a case strung over a shoulder. The newcomer said something in the difficult accent which Earendil couldn't understand, but was whispered and urgent. To this blue eyed elf responded in a reassuring tone with,"resting" and something which seemed like "throughout the day", or maybe "for many days yet."

Earendil pieced together what had been said, and deciding it might be entertaining to surprise his new found friend once again, sat up and stretched dramatically. "Good morning," he said to startled looks. "I hope you slept well."

The blue eyed elf smiled. "I rested well, as did my companion."

Earendil nodded. "That is good. I assume things are well to the south, master elf?" He addressed himself to the newcomer, who seemed the same size as the elf he had spotted in the woods south of the camp. Earendil was gratified to get a pleasingly shocked look in response. He was really warming up to shocking elves, and fortunately he received more opportunities.

The shorter elf hissed into his companion's ear, and while most of the words weren't familiar, Earendil heard "throughout the day" once again.

"Yes," the lad agreed, hazarding a guess as to what had been said. "I thought I'd be sleeping a while longer too."

This brought even more wide eyed shock from the newcomer.

"I heard you mention my parents being back soon." Earendil was having a splendid time talking to this new fellow. "Can you guess how far off they are?"

The blue eyed elf burst into a peel of laughter. "I told you the lad had good ears," he chuckled. "Although I didn't know he spoke Silvan, or that he was a smart-ass," he added with a sly look.

Earendil looked down, a bit embarrassed, but still smiling broadly.

"Get back to your post…." It seemed blue eyes was about to mention the other elf's name, but then changed his mind. "I will handle it from here."

The second elf saluted. That Earendil found interesting, as it indicated his friend had a position of importance. Turning back to the boy, the remaining elf walked the last few paces to the ashes of he fire, and sat down.

"Did you enjoy that?"

Earendil didn't see the point in lying. "Yes." He was still smiling.

Looking the lad over the elf said, "you are feeling better it seems. Your sleep was deep and you seemed comfortable, although I thought it would last longer."

Earendil nodded. "Yes. Since my parents are not here, I assume this is just the next morning. I thought I would be asleep longer as well."

"As did we."

The voice was deep, powerful, and didn't sound pleased. Both Earendil and the elf turned to see the large, muscular form of the boy's father, accompanied by Tindomial, walking from the cover of the nearby trees. His mother had a lean, strong face, with dark eyes and blonde, straight hair braided down the back, and as was her custom, a veil tied under the chin, covering her head and falling off her shoulders down her back. She was tall, something that would have been more evident were she not with his father, and her was body lean and well muscled. She looked to Earendil like a warrior, and indeed she came from that stock, her family having lived for generations in the north on the far side of the Misty Mountains. The boy had never met this side of his family. It was a long and perilous journey, his mother had explained, but the boy knew that his mother had left her home on less than pleasant terms, and he believed that this, more than geography, was the reason they didn't travel to visit her kin.

"I suppose your father put you up to this." His father's voice was a growl rolling out from his chest as he spoke to the blue eyed elf. "You know you are supposed to leave us be."

The elf stood up quickly, backing several paces away from Earendil. "I am very sorry, my lord," the elf said, bowing. "I would have remained in the woods as we agreed, only the boy hurt himself."

Earendil nodded vigorously. He knew this tone of voice was not a good sign and wanted to help his new friend. "It's true father," he said earnestly. "I trapped my foot in rocks on the edge of the river, and broke my leg."

Tindomial's eyes widened in shock, and letting out a startled gasp, she rushed forward to join her son. His father glanced briefly in the boy's direction, and seeing nothing amiss, turned his attention back to the elf. "Looks fine to me."

The elf seemed a bit nervous and tried to explain. "Yes, well you see, the lad used his mother's kit to patch himself up."

Tindomial had arrived by her son's side, and kneeling down, pulled back the blanket. Earendil's right pant leg was still pulled up to the knee, and reaching gently down, the concerned mother gently prodded the injured leg.

"It was the right one?" she asked.

Earendil nodded. "Yes mother." He could feel her fingers working at the shin bone, but only felt the slightest discomfort.

Tindomial looked up at her son, a questioning look in her dark eyes. "What did you do to treat it?"

"Alor bark for the pain, and a brew of marion petals to help with swelling and the knitting of the bone."

His mother nodded, returning her attention to the leg. "I don't think it was broken son," she said. "There was perhaps a crack in the bone…"

The elf interrupted. "I am sorry my lady, but I saw the injury and the leg was certainly broken, although the bone was not displaced."

Earendil agreed. "I heard the snap mother, and the symptoms were just as you described." He looked to his new friend for support. "Rapid swelling and a dramatic rushing of blood to the injured site."

The elf agreed. "Exactly as the lad describes."

"The pain was quite terrible, mother," the boy continued. "I'm afraid I opened your last vial of the water for use in the brew to help me sleep."

His mother raised her eyes from the examination, quickly looking at her son. "From the black creek?"

Earendil nodded.

"And you remember this?"

That was a good point, Earendil conceded. He shouldn't remember any of this, at least back as far as the trip through the forest two days ago.

Reaching up and laying a hand gently on her son's cheek, Tindomial looked into his eyes. "What did you do, son?"

There was only one explanation Earendil could think of. "I said the words, mother. And saw the light. It was warm, like you said it would be."

Tindomial's eyes snapped up to look at her son, and then suddenly, burst into tears showering kisses upon his startled face. The boy struggled to free himself from this dramatic show of love, but to no avail.

Walking slowly forward, the large man drew up next to the elf, both watching the woman raining affection down on her unwilling boy. "Tin knows a lot about healing plants," he said, leaning over to whisper to the elf in a low rumble, "but you're telling me that magic-word hokum she's been pushing on the lad for years actually works?"

The elf nodded, smiling at the scene playing out in front of him. "It's actually highly effective hokum, in the right hands."

Earendil broke away from his mother for a moment. "It was actually this elf that helped me," he said, hoping she'd go kiss him instead.

The elf bowed his head modestly. "I merely asked that you follow your mother's instructions."

Earendil disagreed. "He insisted. Told me that the Father comes to you in times of need and pain, and that I should look for him. I wouldn't have bothered trying were it not for him."

Tindomial mouthed an exaggerated "thank you" to the elf, then returned to kissing her boy. Earendil's father merely shrugged his shoulders.

"I should have known that light-and-love shite would be something you elves were into." Then seeing the elf's incredulous expression, his voice softened a bit. "Still, you have made my Tin very happy, and seem to have helped patched up the lad as well." With that he crashed a huge hand down onto the elf's shoulder in what, Earendil supposed, passed for a pat on the back to his father. The blue eyed elf's knees buckled slightly, but he remained standing.

"I owe you thanks, my little tree loving friend. You're welcome in my hall at any time. I don't have the great platters you may be used to, just heavy cream, buttered bread with honey and mead. Still, I will treat you well, and see that you don't leave hungry." Turning back to look at his boy, he added. "Best come alone though. I'm not over-fond of crowds."

The elf nodded.

"And do send word before you arrive, as I prefer not to be surprised."

And then after a short pause.

"And by any time, I mean any time but not at night."

"Don't plan on staying too long either."

The blue eyed elf began to laugh. "I thank you for the hospitality of your hall, my lord, but I think it is time I returned to my duties. Stay well, young master," he called to Earendil who was still wrapped up by his mother. "I will try and stay upwind from now on."

Turning to the bearded man, the elf bowed. "I would appreciate it if you would not mention this to my father, if you two were to meet again. I was not supposed to speak with any of you, and I am not sure the situation that arose would sway his opinion concerning that command."

The man nodded. "As you wish. You have many responsibilities in these woods, and I wouldn't want to make your life any more complicated than it already is."

Th elf laughed. "It is my lack of interest in those responsibilities that irks my noble sire," he said, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I will be a disappointment. I can't see myself accepting my role here in Mirkwood when there is yet so much to see in the rest of Middle Earth."

The big man nodded in understanding. "You are one of the least elven elfs I have met, and I must say I like you more for it. Wanderlust is a good thing, little one. It has served me well. I have seen many things and met many people, learning much from each of them." At this the big man let out a guttural laugh. "Of course that has led me to living alone with only animals as my companions, but with luck you will meet a better class of folk then I did."

The elf smiled, and looked briefly towards Tindomial. "Not entirely alone, it would seem."

A broad smile broke through his bushy beard, and the big man nodded in agreement. "And it was her wanderlust that brought her to me. So you see, if the world is calling you, it is doing so for a reason. You should go, and your father be damned." Then, shrugging his shoulders he added. "Anyway, you're an elf. It's not as if you won't still have plenty of time to spend with your responsibilities."

The elf bowed. "Thank you sir, I will consider your advice," and then waving to the boy, he turned and moved off into the trees.

As he ran, he saw that the sun was starting to rise above the eastern arm of the Lonely Mountain. Ahead of him and above was the watchtower on Ravenhill, from which a pair of good eyes could see an individual on the road all the way to the lake, and an army on the march as far away as the southern shore. Here the road turned east, following the river as it swept in a great curve around the city of Dale, guarding it on three sides. To attack Dale, or approach Erebor, an army had to cross the river, storm one of the two ridges and descend into the valley, or pass through the narrow gap between the river and the base of Ravenhill. All three were difficult approaches, and the dwarves were busy making it even more so.

Earendil had since met the blue eyed elf on two other occasions, and was greatly surprised when he learned who he was. He laughed at this. He would have been more surprised had he not learned who his father was earlier the same day. Still, that was a story for another time, as Dale was now in view. He had other stories to tell today. Tales of orcs and elves and of a battle fought on a small hill some days south of here. He wasn't sure where the telling of this tale would lead Dale, King Bard, or himself, but he knew that the part of it he wouldn't tell would be the most significant one, at least for him.

Having the ability to feel ones enemies in the wind was a boon he couldn't begin to place a value on, but a scent was like a ghost, and their memories could linger in your mind. The smell of spring flowers on the river bank, or of the willow trees bent over, dropping their leaves into the water danced on his mind, but above them all was the smell of her hair when you combed it, and it haunted him.

Of course he now knew not all ghosts were unpleasant.