"Culu!" Culu, come here, son!" Culumalda ran at his mother's bidding.
"Here, Mother!" As always, Fauwne marveled at the sound of his little voice. They had been living peacefully in Lindor for six years now, and had yet to meet any of the original inhabitants. She had come to expect the quiet serenity of their forest home. She tried not to think that while her son was a typical six year old, those born at the same time under the influence of Saruman's magic where even now training to become warriors.
Culu had been sheltered from the truth of his birth. He thought that he was the love child of an Elf and a Dunlending, who had been traveling to their new home in Lindor when a sudden attack had robbed him of his father. He loved to hear the stories of his father, unknowing that each telling brought great pain to his mother as she was forced to lie to her son.
Now, as he ran happily to the house that Fauwne had fashioned for them out of a corner of a ruined Elven palace, the fact that he was indeed a monster rescued from Saruman by his loving mother was the farthest thought from his mind. He had never seen another being other than his mother. He did not know that his features were twisted and unnatural. His mother told him daily what a handsome lad he was, and in Fauwne's mind, he was-- compared to his father.
Fauwne stood in the door of their house, watching with a smile as Culu ran to her. She had been right. He would be a good man when he was grown. Here, he was safe from the evils of the outside world. Here, he could remain untouched. Her smile waned, and then turned to a look of fear as her gaze went beyond Culu to the distant line of woods. There, mounted upon a huge stallion, was a fearsome looking creature. His hair was brilliant gold, and his mouth was turned up into a smile. Fauwne could not see the smile, though. She just saw the confusion in his eyes-- eyes that were trained on her son.
"Culu!" Fauwne shouted in warning, her voice urging her son to greater speed. The boy, unused to having anything to be afraid of, stopped in confusion. Fauwne saw her mistake, and rushed toward her son as fast as her feet would carry her. "Culu, run!" she shouted again.
Culu shook himself out of his daze and raced for his mother.
He looked at the pair, confusion evident on his face. He had never encountered people here before. And stranger still, the woman was displaying evident fear of him. Why were they afraid? Did they have something to hide? He started toward them, determined to find some answers.
Fauwne reached Culu about three seconds before the rider caught them. She threw herself over her son, blocking him from any blows-- and from sight. The rider stopped mere feet from the two and dismounted in one fluid movement. The horse skittered to the side, and Fauwne, watching from the corner of her eye, saw him stand before them with his arms crossed and a dark look in his eyes. Her gaze was drawn to his features. He had pointed ears, a sharply defined chin, and a hooked nose under his lynx-like eyes. Sobs swept over Fauwne as she realized the worst had happened. One of Saruman's children had found them.
"What are you doing here?" Fauwne was surprised at the sound his voice. It was not rough and harsh as she had expected. Instead, it was strong and soft all at once.
"This is our home." Fauwne hated that she sounded so defensive.
"I have lived here for many years, and have never seen you before. In fact, I have never seen any of the race of Men here before." the creature told her.
"We have lived here for six years. Why are you attacking us now?" Fauwne answered heatedly.
"I have not been here in thirty years. I went south to visit friends. I did not mean to frighten you, but you are living in my house."
Fauwne reconsidered the man before her. He did not look to be thirty years old, yet he had lived here and been gone for thirty years. Pieces started to fall into place. Fauwne had never seen an Elf before. She considered him again in a whole new light. Her son did not look so different from the Elf. But as the Elf's mouth widened into a smile, she realized that no Elf had the jagged teeth that Culu had.
"We are sorry. When we arrived, we thought this was the best kept building in town, but it was obviously abandoned." Fauwne was still hunched over Culu, not wanting the man to see him. "We will leave as soon as we have gathered our things." She turned, still with Culu hidden by her body, and rushed back towards the house.
"Wait!" The Elf called back to them. He caught them in just a few steps, and put a hand on Fauwne's shoulder, pulling her upright. Culu ducked behind his mother's skirt, but the Elf payed him no mind. "I did not mean to throw you from your home," the man said gently. "How were you to know that this house was not abandoned?" He smiled at her again. "My name is Annun. Who are you?"
"I am Fauwne." Fauwne offered no further explanation, so Annun, still gripping her arm, asked her.
"And who is this bright young lad?" Culu peeked with one eye from behind his mother. He had never seen another person, and this experience was both frightening and exciting. That his mother was afraid was obvious, but he liked this tall stranger.
"My name is Culu." Culu stepped from behind Fauwne, all fear gone. He started to smile in return of Annun's smile, but Fauwne slapped a hand over his mouth. Culu looked up, confused. He had never seen his mother like this before.
Annun tried not to notice Fauwne's action. Instead, he turned to talk with Culu and started walking towards the house, still pulling Fauwne along with him by her arm.
"Culu, that is a nice name. Perhaps it has a story?"
"Yes," Culu was happy to tell Annun, "My name is Culumalda, after the color of my hair. It was the name of the trees where I was born. What is your name's meaning? I have never heard that word before. It is not in the common speech. Are you an Elf? My Momma told me much about Elves. My father was an Elf."
Fauwne could only pray that Culu would stop talking. He appeared determined to tell Annun his whole life's story. Luckily, Culu did stop talking so Annun could answer his questions.
"Yes, I am an Elf." Annun told him. "My name means 'sunset'. I was born after my father was killed in battle, so my mother named me in her sorrow before she, too, died. I am the last Elf of Lindor. This was once a great kingdom, in my father's day." He looked around wistfully, as if he could still see the streets teeming with busy people. His hold on Fauwne relaxed, and she took that opportunity to pull free.
Fauwne could not leave, though. Culu was watching Annun as if he was a god, there was no way she could pull him away and to safety.
Culu broke the silence. "My father died in battle, too. He died protecting me and my mother as we traveled here to live." He spoke matter of factly, as if it was law that every father should die in battle. "It was wargs," Culu continued, "They attacked us at night. Father killed five before the largest of all attacked him from the back!" his small face was animated, and Culu was being drawn into his own story. "While Father battled that one, another came and grabbed the basket I was sleeping in. My momma screamed, and tried to grab me before I was eaten, but another warg came at her. Just when all seemed lost, Father killed the leader of the pack, and turned to fight the one attacking Momma. Momma grabbed me, but the other warg helped his brother, and, though Father killed them both, he was wounded and he died." Culu finished dramatically. "Then Mamma took me here, and we have lived here ever since. The end."
Annun listened silently to the boy's tale, and Culu had finished just as they reached the door to the house, so he went on inside, Fauwne and Culu trailing behind him.
"You have done wonders," Annun told Fauwne. "I left this place in shambles." He walked to the fire, where a stew pot was simmering and emitting delightful smells. He leaned over and breathed in deeply. "Umm, it has been two months since I last ate food not prepared by my own hands. I fear even lembas can grow old." He turned to Fauwne expectantly.
Fauwne sighed in defeat. Might as well keep him happy, if he was determined to stay, she reasoned. "Please, sit down." she told him. "I will get another bowl."
Annun sat down, a contented smile covering his face.
Culu sat down across from him, and grinned happily back.
Fauwne waited for the inevitable comment as Culu's teeth were seen.
Annun looked at Culu carefully. He leaned forward toward the boy, his eyes narrowing. Finally, he spoke. "Fauwne, you better hurry up that stew. Culu looks ready to eat a horse."
Fauwne caught his eyes over Culu's head. Now it was out. She knew that after supper, she would have a lot of fast talking to do if she was going to help Culu. But deep inside, she was proud of the man who, though he might yet deem her son a monster, would not say so to a child's loving face.
Later that night, after Culu was in bed and Annun had invited himself to stay, Annun and Fauwne sat across from each other at the table. Annun sat patiently, waiting for the explanation he was sure was in the making.
Fauwne suddenly realized that she owed him no explanation. A stranger had invaded her house, eaten her food, claimed her sleeping quarters, and scrutinized her son. Now he was wanting an explanation about the fact that Culu did not meet his standards for looks! Her anger boiled over in that instant, and a second later it reached Annun.
"Who do you think you are? You have come into my home and felt my hospitality, and now, just because my son does not possess a perfect face, you think it is your right to judge him? My son might not possess the beauty of an Elf, but he possesses a heart of gold and a mind of steel. He knows more about love and kindness than all of your kind, and holds more goodness than Eru granted the eldar!" She finished with a flourish, lowering her voice only after realizing her son slept in the next room. She had risen from her seat, and now sat back down with a forced calm on her face.
Annun considered her words thoughtfully. For all practical purposes, she did have a point, but he could not resist watching her face flush again at his answer.
"Well," He stated calmly, "This is my house. And it is the law in Lindor that royalty may enjoy the hospitality of any in the land. As for your son, I never questioned his good heart. I simply, out of concern for my kingdom's well-being, wondered about the wisdom of allowing a short- tempered woman and her half-orc son remain here." Annun waited for the expected retort, but instead, Fauwne turned very pale and sank back further in her seat.
"We will leave," she said submissively, "but please, do not call him an half-orc. He is so much more..." tears flooded Fauwne's eyes and her voice trailed off.
Annun had not expected this response. He had no clue how to react. For what he was sure was the first time in two thousand years, he was at a loss for words. Finally he regained his tongue. "No!" he almost shouted the word, shocking Fauwne out of her seat. "Please, I didn't mean to upset you. Do not cry." He stood and walked around the table to her. "I beg your humblest pardon. I have exhibited behavior that would have shamed the good name of my father. You and your son are welcome to live here for as long as you wish. For sure, your son is a more noble man than I already." He bowed before her.
Now it was Fauwne's turn to be shocked speechless. She stood staring dumbly at Annun for a long moment.
To Annun, she looked very young in that instant. "How old are you?" He questioned her unexpectedly.
"I am twenty years old," Fauwne told him.
"Twenty!" Annun said, shock written across his face. "I had forgotten how it was with mortal men. I have reached and passed twenty a thousand times over!" To himself he added, 'yet at your first twenty, you have a son, a life, a past worth bearing. I have nothing but the ruins of years gone by, and naught to show for the future.'
"How long do Elves live?" Fauwne wondered outloud.
"Until we choose to die," Annun said cryptically, "or the choice is taken from us." In a lighter tone, he added, "Mostly, we choose to leave Arda when we are weary of years that bring nothing but repetition. Perhaps even I shall sail the seas soon, and you may have this house-- all my earthly treasure."
Fauwne felt bad. He was deciding whether his life had any purpose, and she was hoping that when he left, there would be no one left to disturb her and Culu.
Annun noticed the look on her face, and read it easily. "My dear lady," he said pompously with a deep bow and a stricken look on his face, "If it would ease your mind, allow me to this very moment jump from a cliff, thus insuring your inheritance!"
At this Fauwne had to laugh, and Annun joined her. As the hours flew, Fauwne found herself sharing with Annun the story surrounding Culu's birth, and her flight through the shire. Annun's respect grew for her with each word she spoke.
"That," he stated when she had finished her story, "is a reason to live. Be glad. In two decades, you have found more reason to live than many Elves do in two millennia." After a second of silence, Annun thoughtfully added, "You cannot expect him never to learn to fight, though. Culu must learn self-defense to survive in this cruel world. All you can do is temper his strength with wisdom."
"My wisdom is small. My people did not care for knowledge beyond survival. Our one desire has always been for the land of our fathers. Now..." she ended with a sigh, "we have lost all the wisdom we did have in that pursuit."
"Let me help." Annun was as shocked by his words as Fauwne was, but he continued, his resolve deepening. "I have done nothing of use in my thousands of years. Let me train Culu in ways of war, and in wisdom. He has given you purpose, please, let him give me a purpose, too."
Fauwne considered his offer, and saw the wisdom in his words. All of Saruman's children would be great fighters. If they were found, their only hope of survival could be Culu's equal strength and superb mind. And, as long as Culu was taught that violence was not the answer, his ability to fight could be cultivated as just one more side of her son's well-rounded education.
"Agreed." Fauwne shook hands with Annun gravely.
Annun took her proffered hand with equal gravity. He had just undertaken to raise the son of an Orc, breed through Saruman's power. What could cause one to be more sober than that?
The next morning, bright and early, Culu's training began. Annun woke him before light, telling him that they were going to 'play a game'. Culu had never had a playmate, and with the innocent trust of any six year old, he gladly followed Annun out into the hazy dark.
"All right, Culu, we are going to play 'hide and seek'. I am going to hide in the woods, and you must find me."
Annun had to know exactly what traits Culu had inherited from his father-- and with the ease that Culu found him, he knew that good night sight was one of them. Next they played tag, so Annun could test Culu's speed and endurance-- both of which he found extraordinary. Next, he had Culu try to sneak up on him. Annun was amazed at how much noise the boy made! Here was definitely an area that could use improvement.
Over the next few weeks, Culu fell into his new routine. Each morning he would rise early and spend two hours 'playing' with Annun. Then they would return to the house for breakfast, and the rest of the morning was devoted to study. Culu was fast to pick up reading and writing in the common speech, and Annun started challenging him further with learning Silvan Elvish and a few words of the other languages he had picked up over the years. Culu loved this time of day, but he loved even more the afternoons. Each day, after they had eaten lunch, he and Annun would go to the ruins of a courtyard deep within the palace and Annun would instruct him in the ways of war. It was obvious that Culu was born to fight. Annun soon found his young charge posing a real challenge to his own memory of fighting techniques. Everything Annun taught him, he soaked in and begged for more.
Annun would have begun to fear his reasoning in training Culu were it not for the way Culu spent his evenings. Each night, Annun would read to Culu and Fauwne out of one of the many books housed in the ruined city. Fauwne enjoyed this time as much as Culu did. Even Annun found himself looking forward to the evening sessions with books he had read as a child. After Annun had read, he would drill Culu on the nuggets of wisdom and knowledge in the book. He would steer Culu's answers so that the child understood the futileness of war, and the power of peace. He would expound on the consequences of evil, and the rewards of love. Culu would often ask questions about different wars and kings of the past, and Annun's answer was always the same. "A great king is a wise king. A wise king avoids war, for war can corrupt and ruin even a great king." Then he would look around him thoughtfully, drawing Culu's attention to the fact that at that very moment, they sat in what had once been a great city, devastated by war.
Culu would nod his head thoughtfully, and then Fauwne would tuck him into bed.
Annun was often still awake when Fauwne returned, and they would further discuss the reading or Culu's progress before seeking their own rest.
One night, almost a year after Annun had started training Culu, the Elf lay awake in his bed for a long time. He had noticed something that day that was troubling him. In vain he tried to shake off the feeling of impending doom. It hung over him like a cloak, robbing him of air. Finally, he rose and walked quietly out of the house. He breathed deeply the night air, but even that could not clear the fog that surrounded him. He ran into the woods, safely out of hearing range of the house, and let loose one thunderous word. "NO!" He listened as his yell echoed hollowly against the trees, turning his cry into a ghostly omen.
He stood until the last echo had died, then, before returning to his room, whispered into the night, "No. I won't believe it. It cannot be true," But with each pounding beat of his heart as he walked back to the house, the words echoed in his mind, 'it's true! true...true...true... true....'
The next day, Annun told Fauwne and Culu that he was leaving. Culu cried, and Fauwne tried to coax an explaination out of him, but none came. Two hours after his unexpected announcement, Annun mounted his horse and rode away without looking back.
"What will we do now," Fauwne did not even know that she was speaking. She and Culu still stood watching where Annun had faded into the distant horison. Annun's presence had become, well-- familiar. Needed. He had renued her own purpose and faith in her child.
Culu squeezed his mother's hand. "We will do what we did before." Culu's voice seemed old beyond his years, and Fauwne looked down at him in question. "We got what we wanted from him, and now he is gone. We will do what we did before-- better." Culu turned his eyes back toward the horizon, but Fauwne's eyes stayed locked on her son.
Culu had seemed so old just then. So world-weary. So harsh. So-- orcish. For the first time, as Fauwne watched the smoldering black coals that were Culu's eyes, she feared her son.
"Here, Mother!" As always, Fauwne marveled at the sound of his little voice. They had been living peacefully in Lindor for six years now, and had yet to meet any of the original inhabitants. She had come to expect the quiet serenity of their forest home. She tried not to think that while her son was a typical six year old, those born at the same time under the influence of Saruman's magic where even now training to become warriors.
Culu had been sheltered from the truth of his birth. He thought that he was the love child of an Elf and a Dunlending, who had been traveling to their new home in Lindor when a sudden attack had robbed him of his father. He loved to hear the stories of his father, unknowing that each telling brought great pain to his mother as she was forced to lie to her son.
Now, as he ran happily to the house that Fauwne had fashioned for them out of a corner of a ruined Elven palace, the fact that he was indeed a monster rescued from Saruman by his loving mother was the farthest thought from his mind. He had never seen another being other than his mother. He did not know that his features were twisted and unnatural. His mother told him daily what a handsome lad he was, and in Fauwne's mind, he was-- compared to his father.
Fauwne stood in the door of their house, watching with a smile as Culu ran to her. She had been right. He would be a good man when he was grown. Here, he was safe from the evils of the outside world. Here, he could remain untouched. Her smile waned, and then turned to a look of fear as her gaze went beyond Culu to the distant line of woods. There, mounted upon a huge stallion, was a fearsome looking creature. His hair was brilliant gold, and his mouth was turned up into a smile. Fauwne could not see the smile, though. She just saw the confusion in his eyes-- eyes that were trained on her son.
"Culu!" Fauwne shouted in warning, her voice urging her son to greater speed. The boy, unused to having anything to be afraid of, stopped in confusion. Fauwne saw her mistake, and rushed toward her son as fast as her feet would carry her. "Culu, run!" she shouted again.
Culu shook himself out of his daze and raced for his mother.
He looked at the pair, confusion evident on his face. He had never encountered people here before. And stranger still, the woman was displaying evident fear of him. Why were they afraid? Did they have something to hide? He started toward them, determined to find some answers.
Fauwne reached Culu about three seconds before the rider caught them. She threw herself over her son, blocking him from any blows-- and from sight. The rider stopped mere feet from the two and dismounted in one fluid movement. The horse skittered to the side, and Fauwne, watching from the corner of her eye, saw him stand before them with his arms crossed and a dark look in his eyes. Her gaze was drawn to his features. He had pointed ears, a sharply defined chin, and a hooked nose under his lynx-like eyes. Sobs swept over Fauwne as she realized the worst had happened. One of Saruman's children had found them.
"What are you doing here?" Fauwne was surprised at the sound his voice. It was not rough and harsh as she had expected. Instead, it was strong and soft all at once.
"This is our home." Fauwne hated that she sounded so defensive.
"I have lived here for many years, and have never seen you before. In fact, I have never seen any of the race of Men here before." the creature told her.
"We have lived here for six years. Why are you attacking us now?" Fauwne answered heatedly.
"I have not been here in thirty years. I went south to visit friends. I did not mean to frighten you, but you are living in my house."
Fauwne reconsidered the man before her. He did not look to be thirty years old, yet he had lived here and been gone for thirty years. Pieces started to fall into place. Fauwne had never seen an Elf before. She considered him again in a whole new light. Her son did not look so different from the Elf. But as the Elf's mouth widened into a smile, she realized that no Elf had the jagged teeth that Culu had.
"We are sorry. When we arrived, we thought this was the best kept building in town, but it was obviously abandoned." Fauwne was still hunched over Culu, not wanting the man to see him. "We will leave as soon as we have gathered our things." She turned, still with Culu hidden by her body, and rushed back towards the house.
"Wait!" The Elf called back to them. He caught them in just a few steps, and put a hand on Fauwne's shoulder, pulling her upright. Culu ducked behind his mother's skirt, but the Elf payed him no mind. "I did not mean to throw you from your home," the man said gently. "How were you to know that this house was not abandoned?" He smiled at her again. "My name is Annun. Who are you?"
"I am Fauwne." Fauwne offered no further explanation, so Annun, still gripping her arm, asked her.
"And who is this bright young lad?" Culu peeked with one eye from behind his mother. He had never seen another person, and this experience was both frightening and exciting. That his mother was afraid was obvious, but he liked this tall stranger.
"My name is Culu." Culu stepped from behind Fauwne, all fear gone. He started to smile in return of Annun's smile, but Fauwne slapped a hand over his mouth. Culu looked up, confused. He had never seen his mother like this before.
Annun tried not to notice Fauwne's action. Instead, he turned to talk with Culu and started walking towards the house, still pulling Fauwne along with him by her arm.
"Culu, that is a nice name. Perhaps it has a story?"
"Yes," Culu was happy to tell Annun, "My name is Culumalda, after the color of my hair. It was the name of the trees where I was born. What is your name's meaning? I have never heard that word before. It is not in the common speech. Are you an Elf? My Momma told me much about Elves. My father was an Elf."
Fauwne could only pray that Culu would stop talking. He appeared determined to tell Annun his whole life's story. Luckily, Culu did stop talking so Annun could answer his questions.
"Yes, I am an Elf." Annun told him. "My name means 'sunset'. I was born after my father was killed in battle, so my mother named me in her sorrow before she, too, died. I am the last Elf of Lindor. This was once a great kingdom, in my father's day." He looked around wistfully, as if he could still see the streets teeming with busy people. His hold on Fauwne relaxed, and she took that opportunity to pull free.
Fauwne could not leave, though. Culu was watching Annun as if he was a god, there was no way she could pull him away and to safety.
Culu broke the silence. "My father died in battle, too. He died protecting me and my mother as we traveled here to live." He spoke matter of factly, as if it was law that every father should die in battle. "It was wargs," Culu continued, "They attacked us at night. Father killed five before the largest of all attacked him from the back!" his small face was animated, and Culu was being drawn into his own story. "While Father battled that one, another came and grabbed the basket I was sleeping in. My momma screamed, and tried to grab me before I was eaten, but another warg came at her. Just when all seemed lost, Father killed the leader of the pack, and turned to fight the one attacking Momma. Momma grabbed me, but the other warg helped his brother, and, though Father killed them both, he was wounded and he died." Culu finished dramatically. "Then Mamma took me here, and we have lived here ever since. The end."
Annun listened silently to the boy's tale, and Culu had finished just as they reached the door to the house, so he went on inside, Fauwne and Culu trailing behind him.
"You have done wonders," Annun told Fauwne. "I left this place in shambles." He walked to the fire, where a stew pot was simmering and emitting delightful smells. He leaned over and breathed in deeply. "Umm, it has been two months since I last ate food not prepared by my own hands. I fear even lembas can grow old." He turned to Fauwne expectantly.
Fauwne sighed in defeat. Might as well keep him happy, if he was determined to stay, she reasoned. "Please, sit down." she told him. "I will get another bowl."
Annun sat down, a contented smile covering his face.
Culu sat down across from him, and grinned happily back.
Fauwne waited for the inevitable comment as Culu's teeth were seen.
Annun looked at Culu carefully. He leaned forward toward the boy, his eyes narrowing. Finally, he spoke. "Fauwne, you better hurry up that stew. Culu looks ready to eat a horse."
Fauwne caught his eyes over Culu's head. Now it was out. She knew that after supper, she would have a lot of fast talking to do if she was going to help Culu. But deep inside, she was proud of the man who, though he might yet deem her son a monster, would not say so to a child's loving face.
Later that night, after Culu was in bed and Annun had invited himself to stay, Annun and Fauwne sat across from each other at the table. Annun sat patiently, waiting for the explanation he was sure was in the making.
Fauwne suddenly realized that she owed him no explanation. A stranger had invaded her house, eaten her food, claimed her sleeping quarters, and scrutinized her son. Now he was wanting an explanation about the fact that Culu did not meet his standards for looks! Her anger boiled over in that instant, and a second later it reached Annun.
"Who do you think you are? You have come into my home and felt my hospitality, and now, just because my son does not possess a perfect face, you think it is your right to judge him? My son might not possess the beauty of an Elf, but he possesses a heart of gold and a mind of steel. He knows more about love and kindness than all of your kind, and holds more goodness than Eru granted the eldar!" She finished with a flourish, lowering her voice only after realizing her son slept in the next room. She had risen from her seat, and now sat back down with a forced calm on her face.
Annun considered her words thoughtfully. For all practical purposes, she did have a point, but he could not resist watching her face flush again at his answer.
"Well," He stated calmly, "This is my house. And it is the law in Lindor that royalty may enjoy the hospitality of any in the land. As for your son, I never questioned his good heart. I simply, out of concern for my kingdom's well-being, wondered about the wisdom of allowing a short- tempered woman and her half-orc son remain here." Annun waited for the expected retort, but instead, Fauwne turned very pale and sank back further in her seat.
"We will leave," she said submissively, "but please, do not call him an half-orc. He is so much more..." tears flooded Fauwne's eyes and her voice trailed off.
Annun had not expected this response. He had no clue how to react. For what he was sure was the first time in two thousand years, he was at a loss for words. Finally he regained his tongue. "No!" he almost shouted the word, shocking Fauwne out of her seat. "Please, I didn't mean to upset you. Do not cry." He stood and walked around the table to her. "I beg your humblest pardon. I have exhibited behavior that would have shamed the good name of my father. You and your son are welcome to live here for as long as you wish. For sure, your son is a more noble man than I already." He bowed before her.
Now it was Fauwne's turn to be shocked speechless. She stood staring dumbly at Annun for a long moment.
To Annun, she looked very young in that instant. "How old are you?" He questioned her unexpectedly.
"I am twenty years old," Fauwne told him.
"Twenty!" Annun said, shock written across his face. "I had forgotten how it was with mortal men. I have reached and passed twenty a thousand times over!" To himself he added, 'yet at your first twenty, you have a son, a life, a past worth bearing. I have nothing but the ruins of years gone by, and naught to show for the future.'
"How long do Elves live?" Fauwne wondered outloud.
"Until we choose to die," Annun said cryptically, "or the choice is taken from us." In a lighter tone, he added, "Mostly, we choose to leave Arda when we are weary of years that bring nothing but repetition. Perhaps even I shall sail the seas soon, and you may have this house-- all my earthly treasure."
Fauwne felt bad. He was deciding whether his life had any purpose, and she was hoping that when he left, there would be no one left to disturb her and Culu.
Annun noticed the look on her face, and read it easily. "My dear lady," he said pompously with a deep bow and a stricken look on his face, "If it would ease your mind, allow me to this very moment jump from a cliff, thus insuring your inheritance!"
At this Fauwne had to laugh, and Annun joined her. As the hours flew, Fauwne found herself sharing with Annun the story surrounding Culu's birth, and her flight through the shire. Annun's respect grew for her with each word she spoke.
"That," he stated when she had finished her story, "is a reason to live. Be glad. In two decades, you have found more reason to live than many Elves do in two millennia." After a second of silence, Annun thoughtfully added, "You cannot expect him never to learn to fight, though. Culu must learn self-defense to survive in this cruel world. All you can do is temper his strength with wisdom."
"My wisdom is small. My people did not care for knowledge beyond survival. Our one desire has always been for the land of our fathers. Now..." she ended with a sigh, "we have lost all the wisdom we did have in that pursuit."
"Let me help." Annun was as shocked by his words as Fauwne was, but he continued, his resolve deepening. "I have done nothing of use in my thousands of years. Let me train Culu in ways of war, and in wisdom. He has given you purpose, please, let him give me a purpose, too."
Fauwne considered his offer, and saw the wisdom in his words. All of Saruman's children would be great fighters. If they were found, their only hope of survival could be Culu's equal strength and superb mind. And, as long as Culu was taught that violence was not the answer, his ability to fight could be cultivated as just one more side of her son's well-rounded education.
"Agreed." Fauwne shook hands with Annun gravely.
Annun took her proffered hand with equal gravity. He had just undertaken to raise the son of an Orc, breed through Saruman's power. What could cause one to be more sober than that?
The next morning, bright and early, Culu's training began. Annun woke him before light, telling him that they were going to 'play a game'. Culu had never had a playmate, and with the innocent trust of any six year old, he gladly followed Annun out into the hazy dark.
"All right, Culu, we are going to play 'hide and seek'. I am going to hide in the woods, and you must find me."
Annun had to know exactly what traits Culu had inherited from his father-- and with the ease that Culu found him, he knew that good night sight was one of them. Next they played tag, so Annun could test Culu's speed and endurance-- both of which he found extraordinary. Next, he had Culu try to sneak up on him. Annun was amazed at how much noise the boy made! Here was definitely an area that could use improvement.
Over the next few weeks, Culu fell into his new routine. Each morning he would rise early and spend two hours 'playing' with Annun. Then they would return to the house for breakfast, and the rest of the morning was devoted to study. Culu was fast to pick up reading and writing in the common speech, and Annun started challenging him further with learning Silvan Elvish and a few words of the other languages he had picked up over the years. Culu loved this time of day, but he loved even more the afternoons. Each day, after they had eaten lunch, he and Annun would go to the ruins of a courtyard deep within the palace and Annun would instruct him in the ways of war. It was obvious that Culu was born to fight. Annun soon found his young charge posing a real challenge to his own memory of fighting techniques. Everything Annun taught him, he soaked in and begged for more.
Annun would have begun to fear his reasoning in training Culu were it not for the way Culu spent his evenings. Each night, Annun would read to Culu and Fauwne out of one of the many books housed in the ruined city. Fauwne enjoyed this time as much as Culu did. Even Annun found himself looking forward to the evening sessions with books he had read as a child. After Annun had read, he would drill Culu on the nuggets of wisdom and knowledge in the book. He would steer Culu's answers so that the child understood the futileness of war, and the power of peace. He would expound on the consequences of evil, and the rewards of love. Culu would often ask questions about different wars and kings of the past, and Annun's answer was always the same. "A great king is a wise king. A wise king avoids war, for war can corrupt and ruin even a great king." Then he would look around him thoughtfully, drawing Culu's attention to the fact that at that very moment, they sat in what had once been a great city, devastated by war.
Culu would nod his head thoughtfully, and then Fauwne would tuck him into bed.
Annun was often still awake when Fauwne returned, and they would further discuss the reading or Culu's progress before seeking their own rest.
One night, almost a year after Annun had started training Culu, the Elf lay awake in his bed for a long time. He had noticed something that day that was troubling him. In vain he tried to shake off the feeling of impending doom. It hung over him like a cloak, robbing him of air. Finally, he rose and walked quietly out of the house. He breathed deeply the night air, but even that could not clear the fog that surrounded him. He ran into the woods, safely out of hearing range of the house, and let loose one thunderous word. "NO!" He listened as his yell echoed hollowly against the trees, turning his cry into a ghostly omen.
He stood until the last echo had died, then, before returning to his room, whispered into the night, "No. I won't believe it. It cannot be true," But with each pounding beat of his heart as he walked back to the house, the words echoed in his mind, 'it's true! true...true...true... true....'
The next day, Annun told Fauwne and Culu that he was leaving. Culu cried, and Fauwne tried to coax an explaination out of him, but none came. Two hours after his unexpected announcement, Annun mounted his horse and rode away without looking back.
"What will we do now," Fauwne did not even know that she was speaking. She and Culu still stood watching where Annun had faded into the distant horison. Annun's presence had become, well-- familiar. Needed. He had renued her own purpose and faith in her child.
Culu squeezed his mother's hand. "We will do what we did before." Culu's voice seemed old beyond his years, and Fauwne looked down at him in question. "We got what we wanted from him, and now he is gone. We will do what we did before-- better." Culu turned his eyes back toward the horizon, but Fauwne's eyes stayed locked on her son.
Culu had seemed so old just then. So world-weary. So harsh. So-- orcish. For the first time, as Fauwne watched the smoldering black coals that were Culu's eyes, she feared her son.