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Middle-earth Adventure Journal! - 7
🕑 Added 2025-09-19 11:38:37 +0000 UTCChapter 7: Farewell
"Good, watch carefully."
Elrohir drew his sword and suddenly moved, his form like fleeting light and shadow, his blade like bright moonlight.
Aedric widened his eyes, afraid he'd miss any movement.
As the elf's form accelerated within his vision, a scene appeared in his mind.
Beneath a dim sky, wild winds howled across the blue sea surface. Surging waves like blue ramparts engulfed everything in their path. A massive figure of towering and mighty form slowly rose from the sea depths, wearing a foam crown and silver-green armor. His voice rumbled low like waves crashing against the shore.
"If you're willing, I may bestow my favor upon you."
Aedric was stunned, a name mysteriously appearing in his mind. King of the Seas, Lord of All Waters, one of the mightiest among the Ainur.
Ulmo.
Before he could respond, the vision shattered like foam, becoming scattered points of iridescent light.
Elrohir steadied himself, showing no trace of weariness, instead asking somewhat nervously: "Aedric, did you understand?"
Their family's training method was excellent, certainly supreme. But it was also extremely selective.
Over thousands of years, his father had taught many humans and elves closely connected to Rivendell. Most couldn't even comprehend it by observation. Let alone practice it.
Aedric slowly nodded: "I think I understood."
[Note]
[Under Elrohir's instruction, you learned Celorn. When practiced deeply, one may gain dominion over water's power in Arda.]
"Excellent." Elrohir's expression relaxed as he smiled. "Next, I'll demonstrate slowly. Remember what you can without forcing it—there's still some distance to Michel Delving. Time's abundant."
He raised his long sword horizontally in the opening stance, adding: "My father once said that water appears formless yet possesses countless forms. Thus, understanding by sight alone means entering the gate. When practiced to completion, each person's comprehension differs, even twins like Elladan and me."
Elladan agreed: "Indeed. Should opportunity arise hereafter, you may visit Rivendell as our guest, and we'll practice together."
"I'd love that." Aedric nodded.
When Laurelin's fruit began reddening and gradually fell into the deep green forest depths, countless stars slowly appeared in the sky, sparkling brilliantly.
By this time, Aedric had memorized every movement and could demonstrate them slowly, bit by bit. He didn't dare move too quickly.
Any significant motion would make the wounds on his chest and abdomen clearly inform him: Do you know why flowers are so red? Because blood has soaked right through the bandages!
The two three-thousand-year-old elves called this sight incredible. Especially Elrohir, whose expression changed constantly. He patted Aedric's shoulder gently, saying: "I'll fetch the healer for you."
Then departed in a daze.
Elladan laughed heartily, mercilessly beginning to expose past embarrassments: "Originally, Elrohir practiced with Father for three months, rising early and sleeping late daily before memorizing all movements. That was already quite swift—only slightly slower than Father."
"He's always taken pride in this." He drew near Aedric, saying: "With your vast learning, you surely know our great-grandfather?"
Speaking thus, his smile carried some pride.
"Indeed, Tuor the Blessed." Aedric nodded.
How could he not know this? A true winner in life! He married the daughter of Turgon, High King of the Noldor, sailed west and successfully reached Valinor, transformed from human to elf, and lived happily with his wife Idril until now.
Among humans, he was also among the strongest. When Gondolin fell, wielding the battle-axe "Dramborleg," he single-handedly slew three Balrogs and an orc chieftain. Know that when Morgoth reigned as Dark Lord, some orc chieftains were transformed Maiar.
"Ha ha ha ha ha!" Elladan laughed breathlessly. "Now then, you accomplished all this in two hours!"
"Enough talk!" came an angry roar tinged with embarrassment from afar. "You who took half a year have no face to speak of me!"
Elladan paused, then laughed even more joyously, paying this matter no heed whatsoever.
Aedric showed sudden understanding. It seemed his performance had rather stimulated the nearly three-thousand-year-old Elrohir. He smiled helplessly.
His thoughts filled with flashing swords and darting, weaving forms, his hands and feet unconsciously began to move slowly in response.
Until a clear voice sounded: "Aedric, you mustn't move carelessly. Should the wounds reopen, healing becomes far more difficult." Only then did he stop.
A beautiful elven healer arrived, replacing Aedric's bandages and medicines once more. The situation remained fairly good. Though some blood had seeped through, most wounds remained in a healing state, slowly recovering. No secondary rupture had occurred.
"I've just severely chastised Elrohir—under no circumstances should one train sword-work with the wounded at such a time! And Elladan too..." The healer spoke while turning to look around.
Silence surrounded them. Seeing trouble approaching, Elladan had long since vanished without a trace.
She turned back with a grave expression: "Aedric, for your body's sake, please avoid violent movement. All must await complete healing."
"Yeah, understood." Aedric scratched his head embarrassedly. "Thanks for your trouble."
"Mm." The healer nodded, instructing: "Heed the physician's words."
In the following days, Aedric seemed possessed. Whether traveling or resting, he seized every opportunity to practice this Celorn in his mind, striving for complete mastery.
Once his injuries healed and he got a real sword, he could begin practice immediately. Even while sleeping, his dreams were filled with towering waves and boundless seas. Tidal sounds like low roars echoed repeatedly.
Days rose and set, and stars appeared and faded. The elves traveled without rest. After several more days, signs of habitation appeared along the roadside.
Houses built of stone, wood, and brick stood scattered yet orderly upon distant hillsides. Children played and laughed on country lanes, their bell-like laughter carrying from afar.
Careful observation revealed glinting windows embedded in the hillside, with round wooden doors painted green, brown, and yellow. These were Hobbit dwellings—smials, or hole-dwellings. The most famous site, such as Bag End belonging to Master Baggins, was Hobbiton's most prominent smial.
Around the village stretched crisscrossing fields already sprouting tender shoots. It was now the month of Rethe—March in Middle-earth—and humans and Hobbits busy with spring farming lifted their heads upon hearing sounds, watching the rarely seen elves appear on the roads in such numbers. All gaped in amazement.
They nearly returned home to summon wives and children to witness this sight. In the Shire, such scenes were rare indeed—enough to fuel tavern boasting for half a day.
Aedric's destination—Michel Delving, the Shire's capital—appeared distantly among northern hills.
Evening approached. The elves pitched camp in a forest clearing. Here they bathed in brilliant starlight while avoiding the curious yet enthusiastic gazes from the village.
Aedric held a smooth branch, his form flowing like water as he moved around the campfire. His arms swept about, the brown-green branch seeming to conjure mist. Hissing sounds arose.
Half a month had passed. The tears in his abdomen and chest had largely healed. Now he practiced daily without fail, his stamina gradually strengthening through exercise. Though subtle, Aedric could feel the improvement.
Moreover, during practice, wisps of clear breath appeared within his body, constantly gathering at the wound sites. As if hastening recovery.
Regrettably, what he held wasn't a real sword. Thus, something felt amiss.
Aedric stopped his movements, clicking his tongue in displeasure as he tossed the straight branch into the fire.
Looking up, his face showed a slight smile. Unknowingly, Luna had quietly approached, standing beneath the hazy starlight.
She wore a pale green silk robe, golden hair flowing over her chest and faintly luminous. Her face was pale, her brows carrying gentle curves, and her lips slightly upturned as if smiling.
Gone entirely was the arrow-sharp quality from their first meeting. Instead, she resembled a golden forest cat filled with languid grace. Perhaps it was an illusion, but in those bright gray eyes he glimpsed a trace of envy.
Me? Aedric was somewhat puzzled. For elves, what did humans possess worth envying?
Aedric shook his head, casting aside such idle thoughts as he approached with a smile: "You're awake? How's your recovery?"
Since regaining his ability to walk, he'd visited Luna from time to time. After all, they were comrades who'd faced death together. However, she'd remained unconscious throughout.
According to the healer, Luna had expended greatly in battle—not only physically but spiritually as well, making swift awakening difficult.
Aedric had nodded in understanding. His injuries appeared bloody and severe, yet most were surface wounds—tears and bruises. With timely treatment plus adequate sleep and nutrition, he'd soon regained vitality.
Luna's case differed entirely. While fleeing, her wound had bled continuously, yet she'd shot down several ambushing Wargs while maintaining focus to chant magical songs. Such expenditure was extraordinary indeed.
"Yes, much improved. Thanks for your visits." Luna nodded gently, her smile brightening further.
"Think nothing of it—we're comrades, after all." Aedric waved casually, asking curiously: "By the way, did you need me for something?"
"Yes." Luna nodded softly, extending a package. "This is for you."
"What's this?" Upon opening it, Aedric's face immediately showed pleasure. Within lay a dark green outfit—by its style, close-fitting hunting garb suitable for movement. For his current situation, it was perfect!
Luna explained: "Time pressed urgently, preventing new tailoring. I altered one of Elrohir's spare sets—it's clean."
"Is this alright? I feel rather embarrassed." Though Aedric spoke thus, his actions proved honest as he unhesitatingly accepted it, planning to try it come morning.
Luna's smile brightened further: "I'm glad you don't mind." Then hesitation appeared in her eyes. Steadying herself, she asked: "I've heard you refused Lord Círdan's invitation and don't plan to dwell long in the Grey Havens, intending instead to journey to Michel Delving. Is this so?"
"Yeah, that's true." Aedric nodded in acknowledgment, then, seeing Luna's puzzled expression, he scratched his head and somehow began explaining.
"During this time, Isa and Carl spoke so much about it, really letting me feel Lindon's goodness. But having reached Eriador with such difficulty, I should explore thoroughly."
"To meet several hospitable Hobbits, taste their specialty foods, then chat with friends over Old Toby beneath the sunset. When the mood strikes, to see ruins left by Arnor's kingdom, then take down some troublesome orcs to bring peace to this world."
"Being still quite young, it's too early for retirement in Lindon."
Luna's expression quietly dimmed, like a moon veiled by clouds: "I understand—you love adventure."
"Ah." Aedric smiled as if noticing nothing. "Having come so far, naturally I must see all there is. If possible, I'd even journey to Rhovanion."
"It's said the Lonely Mountain's accumulated wealth could fill an entire vast hall. Mirkwood holds a magical river flowing through the Elvenking's realm that brings drowsiness. Near the great River Anduin dwell skin-changers who become bears."
"In the Misty Mountains nest great eagles with wingspans exceeding ten meters—some say each is a Maia, others claim only their king..."
Aedric spoke enthusiastically of sights he wished to witness.
Luna sighed imperceptibly.
"Humans to elves are like meteors crossing the sky—beautiful, brilliant, yet fleeting. A hundred years for us is but the blink of an eye, yet for them it's the difference between birth and bone."
"My daughter, I hope you invest no emotion in humans of any kind. The deeper the investment, the greater the pain when they depart."
Luna suddenly recalled her father's teachings. Yet how could emotion be controlled by will alone?
Remembering Aedric's firm words, all they'd experienced in the forest, that figure guarding the cave entrance, and then seeing this human before her—excited and determined to depart. Indescribable pain lingered in her heart.
"Moreover, given time, I might visit Mirkwood as a guest. Then I'll trouble you, Isa and Carl, for hospitality."
Aedric truly didn't wish to dwell long in the Grey Havens, yet he still desired that house. When old and feeble, unable to adventure or travel, he'd retire to the Grey Havens with whatever companions he'd made.
By then he should have several friends, surely? Fishing leisurely, tending gardens, sitting on long benches in the yard smoking pipes. Should troubles arise, nearly immortal elven friends would care for him and handle his affairs.
Such retirement was unimaginable in his previous life!
Lord Círdan had been most gracious, declaring the Grey Havens' gates forever open to Aedric—he might return whenever he wished.
"Good, I await you!" Luna nodded solemnly, smiling. "Aedric, rest well. Farewell."
"Yeah, farewell." Aedric waved, watching Luna disappear into the night, also sighing softly.
Humans and elves... Even one as mighty as Aragorn—destiny's protagonist—brought tragedy to Evenstar in the end. Why should he attempt such folly?
He never saw Luna again during their remaining journey. Carl told him Luna had fully recovered and accepted a mission pursuing orcs southward.
Having seized Lindon's people—children no less—Lord Círdan wouldn't simply let matters rest. That sorcerer would be dealt with eventually! Luna would likely not return to their company for some time.
Yet Michel Delving drew ever nearer, and the time for parting with Lindon's elves approached.
The night before farewell, Aedric simply gathered his belongings. Little enough truly—besides those tattered garments holding sentimental value, all else he wore.
Then came farewells to newly made friends. Being unable to bid Luna a personal farewell brought Aedric some regret, yet he understood such pain.
He solemnly told Lord Círdan that should any aid be needed against the sorcerer, he might be summoned. Aedric had yet to settle the score for his captivity! Lord Círdan nodded in agreement.
With all settled, Aedric prepared his spirits for early departure to Michel Delving come morning.
"Aedric!" A call arose. Aedric turned to see Isa approaching breathlessly, bearing an elven sword in both hands.
It grew ever more familiar to his sight.
"Aedric, before departing, Luna left this sword, hoping to present it as a farewell gift. Unable to return herself, she entrusted me with delivery. Please accept it."
A gift? Aedric paused momentarily. Refuse? Impossible.
He truly loved this sword, and bluntly refusing a friend's parting gift would be too heartless. Yet accepting required reciprocation, surely?
Aedric searched his entire person, finally drawing from his breast pocket two silver coins with central holes. He selected the better-preserved one and pressed it into Isa's hand.
With utmost gravity, he declared: "This silver coin surely lacks the sword's worth—perhaps it's hundreds or thousands of times less valuable—yet it preserved my life in dire need."
"Originally, I planned to treasure both as remembrance of all that transpired in the forest. Now I'll give this coin as promised reciprocation to Luna."
"Regardless of time or bearer, should any approach me with this coin, though it be thousands of leagues hence or the depths of Mordor's dragon-lairs, I'll render all possible aid."
"Isa, please convey my words. My thanks."
"I will, Aedric. May fair winds follow you."
"And you as well." Aedric gazed toward distant lights, nodding in response.
