Chapter 3: To Light a Fire

"Do you want to learn to dance?" Daeron asked the little girl who sat beside him. They had been friends for half a year now. Their friendship bloomed like a flower being showered by a spring rain after a long dormancy under the cruel cold of the winter. Daeron had never felt his loneliness eased ever since he left his people, while Inu had never found a creature so kind and full of beauty, surpassing even the most enchanting of fairy tales.

Usually they just sat under the tree and talked. Daeron would tell her stories about his life and his people. Tales of the shaping of the world and the first awakening of the Eldar. Tales of the Marring of Arda and the destruction of the Trees. Tales of the Unnumbered Tears and the War of Wrath. Sometimes he would teach Inu the wisdom of Iluvatar which he had learned from Melian. Sometimes he would tell her the things he had learned and seen during his lengthy pilgrimage. So far the girl had been a most enthusiastic student. She was clever and perceptive beyond her age. Her dark eyes sparkled with interest and excitement as she absorbed the lore that was unheard among her people. If only she had a more beautiful voice, the greatest minstrel would have taught her to sing until she could melt ice by her song and sing like a nightingale calling out for her beloved. Fortunately, she had the talent to be a good dancer. Her body was lithe and strong, like a slender little willow tree springing out from the ground, reaching out for heaven.

"Dance? How?" asked the girl, full of curiosity.

"Like this."

The Elda danced, yielding to the rhythm of his song, like a bough succumbing to the blowing wind, moving his limbs in perfect harmony, as if drawing a picture in the wind. He sang as he danced:

Like early unrequited love,

One spot exists, which ever blooms,

Even in that deadly grove-

A single rose is shedding there

Its lonely luster, meek and pale:

It looks as planted by Despair-

So white- so faint- the slightest gale

Might whirl the leaves on high;

And yet, though storms and blight assail,

And hands more rude than wintry sky

May wring it from the stem- in vain-

Tomorrow sees it bloom again;

The stalk some spirit gently rears,

And waters with celestial tears…

"That is so pretty!" exclaimed the girl in awe. Perhaps Daeron was not the best dancer among the Elves, but he was among the lucky ones who had beheld the dance of Luthien, and learned from it. He could recall every movement, every flow of her dress when she danced and yet he danced his own way.

"Thank you, Inu." The minstrel smiled. "Now, do you want to dance?"

"YES!" exclaimed the little girl.

"Now hold my hands and step on my feet. I'll sing and we will dance together."

"Okay."

Daeron took the little girl's hand and danced with slower motions, accommodating Inu's inexperience. He taught her the basic steps and how to sway her limbs according to the rhythm. The little girl let Daeron lead their movements, thrilled by this new experience. She was excited about becoming a dancer, although she hardly ever saw people dancing. War had just passed, and people found no reason to celebrate. They mourned, not danced. This time, she had found a great teacher beyond her wildest imagination and she could be a dancer! The thought delighted her so much that she smiled throughout her first lesson.

"Do you like dancing?" asked Daeron after they finished their session. Inu was sitting on the grass, panting, her face flushed in excitement and heat.

"Yes! It is so nice. Can we do that again?"

"Sure!"

"Yes! Yes!" She shouted in joy. Daeron could not help but laugh. She looked so cute, so beautiful in her own way, so alive, like a flame burning the woods. For a moment, Daeron noticed that he was surprised at the girl's spontaneous cheerfulness.

And that was when he realized that he had not been accustomed to someone who was really alive. His life had been haunted by death, either physical death such as suffered by mortals, or emotional death, such as suffered by himself.

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"Daeron? Daeron?"

He blinked and was jerked back to reality as Inu called him and pulled his tunic in her small fists.

"Are you okay?" she said, her eyes full of concern.

"Yes. There is nothing to worry about, I am just daydreaming," he said, smiling reassuringly to the worried little girl. The girl that had lit the fading spark inside him before it died down completely and made him an immortal corpse.

"Mommy said we shouldn't daydream too much," she frowned.

"Your mommy is right, little girl. Too much daydreaming is not good." If only she knew how many times I dream in a day, Daeron thought wryly. In fact, most of his immortal life was spent daydreaming, musing, contemplating, and regretting. But mortals, of course, must carefully count their time and not waste it on something useless, such as endless remorse. They had good reason not to dwell on their past, for Time moved swiftly for them, and they must go on or lose the chance forever. Perhaps mortals were wiser than he was.

"Can we dance again?" she asked hopefully. Her puppy eyes almost shattered all of Daeron's resistance, but he shook his head.

"Not today. It is almost dark. You must go home."

The girl pouted, making Daeron laugh. "We can dance again tomorrow."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Both smiled. Yes, they had time, though limited. Tomorrow would come, and they could dance again under the sun until the course of Time swept away everything and left only memories.

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The poem above is taken from "The Bride of Abidos" by Lord Byron.

Thanks to Ithilwen for beta reading:

Casey: Thanks for liking this story. sorry for long update. Real life that is..

Jillian: thanks a lot for email me and urging me to continue.

Treehugger: :) enjoy your Daeron, and Inu too. I got a surprise for you in this fic..

Finch: I hope everything will be fine. *gives nice gems* I stole it from Feanor, by the way. ;)